


The Ventura Highway

by summer_salt



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-22
Updated: 2021-02-22
Packaged: 2021-03-14 12:00:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 6
Words: 23,286
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28545237
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/summer_salt/pseuds/summer_salt
Summary: Hogwarts is surrounded by the most well known proper wizarding world, at the other end of the spectrum is Ventura Way's home- if you could call it that.Welcome to the outbacks of Australia, home to scorpions, dingos, venomous snakes, and many wizarding communes who seek shelter from the elements too harsh for muggles to live in. Here they not only stay reclusive from the muggle community when helped, but also the rest of the wizarding world- they live a nomadic life and are known as 'Travelers'. Due to the lack of proper education on the communes, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry has been inclined by their new professor, Omer Sparks, to welcome in students from the communes.Ventura Way makes the impulse decision to attend and is thus thrust into the world of schedules, uniforms, shoes and the snobbish Draco Malfoy.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Original Female Character(s), Draco Malfoy/Pansy Parkinson, Harry Potter/Original Female Character(s), Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley
Comments: 1
Kudos: 8





	1. Prologue

The parlor was the most lavish room the girl had ever seen.

The crimson walls were crowded with painted landscapes and portraits only serving to make the room all the more suffocating. In fact, the girl saw, that there didn't seem to be one space of the room not occupied with a display of wealth.

A chandelier flickered with candles and crystals as it hung from the intricately carved marble ceiling, the corners were full of naked statues and plants that served no function besides adding to the stuffy atmosphere.

But worst of all, in the middle of the room sat a gold and red velvet loveseat. Three spectators sat- one woman and two men- eyeing the line of girls as if they were being presented a rare species of lizard. 

Even the bartender, who made drinks for the guards at his counter, couldn't help stealing glances.

The girl pressed at her restraints, already bound a bit too many notches tight. The act made the metal bite into her skin, the stinging sensation made her close her eyes but yet she did not stop the action.

"108! Keep your eyes open. The ambassador will be here any moment!" 

Mrs. Fagan, she didn't know her true name, made the girls eyes shot open in obedience. The woman had been the one who separated them from the others, bathed them, and the best of all- fed them a small meal of watered down vegetable stew and a stale piece of bread. 

The woman was a wiry looking thing, her nose tip bowed toward the floor, as if her whole genetic line up was built to have all her features curled down looking at the world in disdain. She looked at 108 with particular disdain, the girl had spoken out against one of the captors on the initial day-the guards reward sat stinging on her cheek as a black and blue reminder. 

But it was for the bruise, she had heard the guards speaking, that would hinder her price. Like a bruised peach at a market, she was last of the barrel to be picked. On that note, she decided she would slam her face repeatedly into the walls of the cell she had been in if she were returned. Anything to hinder her price, here she was a captive but being a captive was better than being owned.

The mahogany door swung open with a groan.

The room came to a standstill, the low conversations that had hummed through the room stopped abruptly as even the onlookers reverted their attention to the cloaked figure that had since entered. 

The sight of him made girl 108 extremely uneasy, he was tall but that was the only personal trait that could be detected. Every part of his body was covered in black- even his face was masked with only two holes from his eyes being the only opening. 

He strode into the room, a small gray goblin looking thing trailing behind him in a timid fashion. A house elf, girl 108 recognized. She had seen a few of them long, long ago. They were fickle creatures, always on the brink of a mental breakdown and for once the girl could somewhat relate to the creature.

"Ambassador, hope your travels went well." Miss. Fagan approached the man, her lips were curled in what could have been a smile- but her features were too cruel to give a whisper to any sort of joy.

She bowed her head lightly before gazing at the lineup of girls with a bit of pride as if looking upon a stable of purebred race horses. The girl swallowed hard and diverted her attention to the floor.

"We have a fine selection here for you today, it is such an honor to bestow upon you the first vassal of our collection." 

The cloaked man nodded his head in politeness, but his mask face was soon turned to the girls.

"May I take a closer look?" He asked as though they would bite. Of course he was permitted, girl 108 didn't know a thing about him other than he was called the ambassador. What such title held or who held the title was irrelevant, but she was aware even in the short amount of time he had been in there it held significant importance.

The way cruel Miss. Fagan primed herself like a hen and tripped over her words around the man, made the girl all the more uneasy of him. How cruel did he have to be to make even the devil herself blush? 

She was grateful even more so for the bruise. 

The man started at the front of the line- a small, mousy girl named Adelaide was the first of the lineup. Though she was well in her twenties, she looked no older than sixteen with her tiny frame. But the man only glanced at her, and kept his steady pace down the lineup.

The girls heart pounded in her chest, she could feel the blood pounding it's fists bloody into her eardrums and she thought they might burst. She gripped her clammy hands into fists, and bowed her chin to her chest wishing more than anything that she had the privilege to close her eyes.

She didn't look, but the mans footsteps clicked against the parlor floor in a smooth, sinister rhythm as though taking his time to toy with the girls anxieties. When the footsteps came to a halt, the girl hoped and prayed that finally he had made his decision. She didn't look up, she could see the polished black shoes standing right before her.

Her heart sank.

A wand was pressed under her chin, gesturing her head up as the tip sank into the soft flesh of her throat. The man was studying her, but she found herself unable to look him in the eye. Again she diverted her attention, this time to the side.

"I thought I gave clear instructions to not touch any of the captives until I made my pick?" The mans voice was deep, and almost pleasant if it didn't have the undertones of threat to an explosive unforgiving temper.

"She's a bit hard to handle, she has a mouth on her- nothing our training won't smooth out, but she had to receive a punishment nonetheless." Miss. Fagan's words were cool, but her face was contorted to that of anxiety. 

"I wasn't the one to do it of course, wasn't even there to see it. But what's one bruised savage? It'll clear up with time and she'll be good as new." 

The wand still pressed into 108's skin as the man surveyed the bruise on her cheek. She hadn't yet seen it, only just heard how grotesque it looked. She was grateful almost she didn't have the luxury of a mirror. 

"Is it broken?" 

"N-no, well can't be sure- it'll heal up though, I'm confident in that." Miss. Fagan found the confidence to approach the man, but she still held the timidity of encountering a wild stallion. 

"You don't want that one, sir. With all so respect of course- you see she's utterly unmannered, completely disobedient- no good wits to her, not even to help herself." She continued surveying the girls tattered face in disgust. 

The man lowered her wand from 108s throat, the girl sighed lightly in relief that Miss. Fagan's disgust in her had rubbed off. She relaxed her chin to its resting position as the man scoffed lightly.

"I'll take her."

108's eyes widened and only now did she look at the man, her hands went cold and her knees felt weak- no, no, no!

"Great Ambassador, with all respect that girl is far more trouble than she's worth- plus, you don't want to be looking at that face for the next few weeks, spare yourself the trouble and-"

"You think I can't handle an unhinged little girl? You dare question my abilities?" He barked in agitation. 

"No!" Miss. Fagan's words slipped her lips in a loud horrified tone, as though disgusted at herself for insinuating such a offense. "I just think you deserve better, here how about girl one hundred and twenty-t-"

"Where is 108s papers?" The man cut her off. "I want a challenge."

This seems to brighten Miss. Fagan's mood, this man was about to receive her problem child- what a perfect punishment of such cruelty, she was surprised she hadn't thought to find the glee of it herself. She smirked lightly at 108, who shivered.

"Really, how thoughtful of you." She smiled before nodding at one of the men sitting across the room at the loveseat. One got up, and carried a briefcase to a small desk. He opened it up with a click before shuffling through some papers.

The other girls in the lineup were now looking towards 108 in pure empathy, she could almost feel the heartbreak as the watched for her. Her blood ran cold, but she didn't dare show a reaction for their sake. She didn't want to terrify them even further.

Before the ink on the papers signatures even dried he came back to collect his property. Miss. Fagan was popping a bottle of champagne but evidently the man had no interest.

"Come along." The man ordered 108, but she stood frozen in place. Her feet felt too heavy to use, but the man grabbed her arm and tugged her out of the room. 

It was only when the great big door creaked and groaned to a close that she really debated running, or perhaps throwing a big enough fit that the man really brushed her off as too much trouble. But she just walked, like a lamb to the slaughter.

This man owns me. 

My actions.

My body.

My thoughts-

He owns me.

I want to die.

It was the first time she had ever thought such a thing and truly meant it, she wanted to die. If someone were to have handed her a letter opener she would have sent it into her stomach and twisted its handle as if spinning her intestines like spaghetti on a fork.

But still she kept walking, each step she felt as if she were to be ill.

They came outside to a buggy parked at the front, the house elf hopped onto the footrest to open the passenger side door to the old fashioned vehicle. She didn't look up to see her captor, even if she could stomach it he wore that disgusting mask. 

Her shackled hands reached for the door handle, slightly by habit before the man stopped her.

He held a key up in front of her face, before his black gloves hand gestured for her restrained wrist. Her mind felt foggy as he gently took the chains into his hand and stuck the key into its lock. The twist brought for an utter relief as the restraints loosened over her wrists. He slipped them off and the girl could now see the purple and blue imprint left. She rubbed them lightly as she looked down at her feet.

"Ventura."

Her eyes widened- was she hallucinating? But as she looked up the man remained unmoving- he knew her name. 

"You know my..." But she couldn't find herself able to finish. He reached a hand to the back of his head to take off the cloak, exposing the white unmistakable locks. He removed the mask as Ventura's mind fumbled with the prices of the puzzle- it was elementary, but she didn't want to believe it.

But the mask came off, exposing a face she had not seen in three years. It felt like a lifetime ago since the name had slipped past her lips.

"Draco?"


	2. Chapter One

Ventura Vera Way never knew if she was named after the Ventura Freeway where her grandmother drove down to seek freedom from her husband, or the song Ventura Highway- the song her mother listened to while driving down, again, the Ventura freeway, pregnant and deciding to raise her in Australia with the travelers. But yet, despite how prominent the stretch of concrete had seemed in creating her, she had never even laid eyes on it.

In fact- she had never been to America. Or anywhere outside of Australia, though she swore it seemed she had lived over every pebble and crevice of the country. While some longed to see the ancient runes of Rome or the Eiffel Tower in Paris, Ventura longed more than anything to drive down the Ventura Highway, just as the women in her family had.

The family of three, Susanna Berkeley, Ventura Way and her grandmother Eileen Dow were witches. While most pure bloods chose to live in traditional wizarding communities or keep quiet from the muggles, Ventura was raised on a wizarding commune. They were quite common in Australia and infamous amongst the rest of the world as 'travellers' , the women had lived with all 8 of them and had travelled the entirety of Australia. The women were well known and well received by each one due to their talents- Susanna was known for her art, Eileen was known for her musical skills and Ventura, to the dismay of her mother was known for only her looks- something she was taught to dismiss and ignore. Being beautiful to the women was a fact, not a compliment, like being skinny or fat and taking any vanity in such a thing was a fruitless idiocy. But as famous as she was for her physical features, her cunningness and never ending boredom or more so- the instinct to cure it made her infamous.

Ventura's father had been raised on the communes in Australia, only she was blessed with an education. Her mother and grandmother were both highly educated- they both attended Ilvermorny, though her grandmother finished her schooling in Europe at Hogwarts. That was where she met her grandfather, an English wizard who upheld traditional wizard values and an even more wild temper. 

But it was due to their lifestyle that Ventura never had a day of traditional school in her life, but her grandmother and mother taught her the things that mattered in life, and shared their textbook knowledge of both spells and mathematics onto her.

The women were also an oddity, despite being close knit they all had different accents. Eileen was originally from Mississippi, when she attended Ilvermorny she was sorted into Pukwugie and later at Hogwarts- hufflepuff. Susanna bore a western valley accent, having been born and raised in California after her father emigrated to the States with her mother. That left Ventura with her Aussie drawl- the mark of their lifestyle was sown into the very fibers of their being, and emphasized by their very voices.

They said there were two things that were consistent in their lives- the ocean, and each other. While their physical home was easy to take down and put back up, they always stayed close to the ocean which bore beige smooth sand and cool blue waves no matter the placement. It was unchanging and Ventura's great great grandchildren would look at it just as she had, and it'd look the same as when her grandmother originally laid eyes on it. It didn't matter where they were, the tapestry walled tents with her mother's portraits adorning the inside didn't make it a home, but the bond the three women shared. 

It was as unchanging as the ocean.

"Ventura." Her mother's American accent rang out amongst the soft playing of her grandmothers acoustic guitar. Eileen didn't look up from her strumming, but when Ventures striking blue eyes lifted from her easel she spotted her mother's head poking from her own painting. 

"After you milk Adelaide, go collect shells by the shore with Ginger- and please... don't be back until nightfall." 

Adelaide was their overfed milk cow, her fatness displaying the affection the three woman held for her. Ventura had milked her before her mother had woken up, her excitement for the day had only given her an early rise. 

"Is it because of that scout that's been bothering the other communes?" Ventura dipped her brush into a pot of paint and added royal blue swirls to her painted sky, her plump lips lightly pressed against each other to hide her smirk. 

Per usual she was one step ahead of her mother, though this time it wasn't so much of a feat- the scout from the European wizarding school wasn't well received and had grown to infamy amongst the travelers in the months he spent hopping about to recruit their youth. She had heard it from the newest family which had joined their commune- their son had been attempted to be brainwashed to go.

"I was thinking about-"

"Don't think about anything." Her mother cut her off, after the past seventeen years she knew just how far Ventura's thoughts could go. 

"You know that he's coming here for all the wrong reasons."

Because they were savages to the rest of their kind. Living off the land in tents and traveling all over the continent wasn't proper. It didn't help that long time travelers had a reputation of being uneducated, and by their terms- stupid. But being ignorant wasn't a crime or even a basis of intelligence- they just never had the chance or will to learn. 

"You went there, to Hogwarts- that's where he's from right?" Ventura looked up at her grandmother who still had yet to look up from her playing.

"Long ago."

"I've never been to Europe." Ventura pressed on, the idea taking as much of a picture in her mind as much so as the painting before her. "I heard it gets pretty cold."

"Freezing." Eileen emphasized, a slight smirk growing to her lips. "But you get that idea out of your head, you would itch yourself to death in that uniform."

"Uniform?" The word spilled black ink over the idealized version of Europe and school in its infant stage in Ventura's mind. As swell as seeing the world sounded, she wanted to be free to do it. The confinement of a schedule and the lack of freedom to even choose what you wore or read sounded suffocating. But still- it was Europe, and a free easy trip and thus the idea was brought back to life.

"You'll get to see Europe one day." Her mother relaxed slightly as she ran a hand through the middle her long black hair. 

"But not today." Ventura rested her chin in the palm of her hand, she could run wild with her ideas of seeing how far she could swim out into the ocean before the current almost kept her in, or how close she could nosedive her broom into the ground before she got too close to a fatal crash- but the ideas of breaking out of Australia had to remain only in her mind.

"It was awfully stuffy there as well, those wizards may have their education- but they were some of the most ignorant people I have ever met. They just burrow in it, build up their walls with textbooks." He grandmothers voice was bitter, but melted into a slight smile as her American southern drawl concluded. 

"How come you never sent me to the Australian wizard school?" She asked. "It just seems a bit unfair that you both got a chance at institutional structure but I'm stuck milking Adelaide every morning."

"The unfairness is a blessing that you are fortunate enough to not be able to fully comprehend." Her mother smiled lightly before resting her brush in the pot. "Don't tease me like that, you don't really want to go."

"You never know with Ventura Trouble's Way." 

Ventura's plump lips smirked as her mother's gaze fell back upon her. Her crows feet were emphasized as she squinted her eyes in mock agitation.

"Shoo!" Suddenly she waved towards her daughter like an annoying fly. "Run along! Get out of my castle, run! Vienna Ventura Vera Vermin , go along on your little Ventura way!" 

Ventura couldn't help but laugh as she got onto her feet that were a bit too big for her bony legs. Her mother called them 'stilt padding'. 

"One of these days, I'm going to change my name."

"I'm sure we'll be able to find amusement in whatever you choose." Susanna smiled over at Eileen who continued strumming on her guitar, but Ventura obeyed her mother and left the shelter and as the sun beat down on her tan skin she knew her next step was her choice. But yet she hadn't decided if she was going to go poking for trouble with the scout, or collect seashells with her peers.

Ginger, who's real name was Kayla, was a short girl with plump red cheeks that matched her even redder hair. She would bunch her mass of curls to the top of her head in a messy bun, but could never tame the flyaways much to her discontent. She was Ventura's age, and had been around and absent throughout her life- but out of all the families theirs seemed to conveniently be at the same place throughout the years.

"Your ma's real scared about that scout from the fancy school in Europe. Knows you're gone find ya self some trouble." 

She was sat drawing pictures in the sand to pass the time. It was a pity she was illiterate, as were most- commune life was mainly boring and bore little to pass the time. 

"Yeah, she's fittin'." Ventura found it was easier to dumb down when around the others. No one liked to be talked down to, and proper grammar and words with more than nine letters made them feel small. 

No one liked that.

"You wouldn't last five days there, maybe less."

"They'd throw me out by then." Ventura smiled as Ginger got to her feet. She was wearing a hand-me-down from her mother- Ventura had seen the woman wearing that exact floral blouse throughout the years. The design was now faded and the cloth bore the beige stains of use, possibly even a whole beach worth of sand too.

"The rest of 'em took the horses down over there." She pointed towards the beach to a place blind to their naked eye. 

"Let's take Armani- he's big enough for the both of us."

They had two winged horses, usually they were kept as pack animals and for travel and were abundant in their neck of the woods. 

Armani was a winged horse of abraxan breed- a rarity in those parts as their ginormous size made them hard to transport and handle. Sengal was their granian, he was smaller than Armani but his size made him quicker- he was also a bit younger, and was the feistiest of the pair.

"I'm taking Armani to the beach!" Ventura called outside of the tent as she approached the horse tied to a post. She untied it and clicked her tongue signaling for the creature to follow her. Armani's beige head nodded in relief from being freed from the restraints of the halter, and strode slowly to keep pace with the girls.

On the way to the seaside the two girls walked arm and arm singing songs as they trampled along the sand, toasted by the blazing sun to the temperature of an oven. Ventura's feet were well calloused from the years of abuse the beach had given them and she found only mild discomfort in her stride.

Armani was the size of an African elephant, though once coaxed to bend to her knees the two girls were able to hop onto her back.

"Hold on right." Ventura warned Ginger who groaned.

"Ventura! No!" But still she held onto the girls waist as though her life depended on it, she was already regretting not taking her families old Aethonan. Though it would've been a tighter fit, at least then it would've been a less bumpy ride.

The horse took to a running gait across the shore before leaping into flight, the wind rushing through the girls hair before licking their manes back into red and brown flags whipping behind their scalps. The cool air felt delicious against the Australian sun, and it kissed against their cheeks as the water of the ocean licked the shore below them. 

Ventura tugged the horses mane so that it's hooves could brush against the water, and she peered down into the glittering blue which bore the two girls reflections. 

"Look." Ginger nudged her chin, but Ventura had already spotted the school of mermaids gliding under the water. 

"I didn't know there was mermaids this close to the city." 

Neither had Ventura and without warning she sent the horse upwards towards the clouds. 

Ginger's disapproval of being robbed the honor of seeing mermaids up close was choked in her throat and replaced by a scream as she clung to Ventura's waist. She dove down to get a better view of the shore- and there she saw the specks of the group and the horses venturing close behind.

Collecting shells wasn't something Ventura particularly enjoyed. There had been a time she found joy in it but she was younger then, thus the novelty had worn out. It felt more like a job than anything and it technically was- she'd give her shells to the families who would fashion them into necklaces to travel to the city and sell for muggle oddities.

There was a group of teens and young adults scouring the beach, while those lazier took to sitting and laying on the shore talking. Not like it mattered, the shell collecting was just an excuse. They were all hiding to save the Scout any trouble or embarrassment.

They landed a few yards outside of the group, just far enough to let Armani land comfortably and gait to a halt. The horse laid on the sand, and Ginger instantly hopped off and stumbled to her knees in the hot sand. She looked utterly pale as she gripped the molecules of the sand gratefully. 

"... I heard ain't no one been listening to that man. He been disruption' our people for nothin', no one want to even give him the chance of day."

"Serves him right, they all think we nothin but dogs who need training."

The conversation was dominated by the prospect of the scout coming. Clearly the consensus was amused offense, it was degrading for this man to come under the guise of compassion for the poor little savage witches and wizards. 

"It's a free country and his breath- let him waste it. He won't even see his way out here." Ventura approached the two main conversationists- a short mousy girl with dirty water blonde hair named Penelope, and a medium height boy with brown hair and a slim long nose named Calvin. 

The boys lips pressed together, but Penelope's mouth contorted into a sneer. She looked almost disappointed by Ventura's arrival, but Ventura was gleeful to see her. She was so easy to evoke that Ventura wondered if she found as much amusement in being emotional as Ventura did inspiring it.

"Sounds like 'sum you'd say." 

"Well I did say it." 

Ginger smirked lightly beside Ventura as her eyes innocently fell to the sand as though looking for shells. She even brushed the base of her foot letting the sand mold under her weight and rush between the cracks of her toes.

"Ya ma tell you to come on out here?" The girls arms were crossed over her chest, her bony elbows hunched up in her beige tank top that held a decade of sand in its fibers. 

"I think ya ma's scared you're goin' to go off to the scout 'n find out you really ain't as smart as you think you is." 

"Shut up, Penelope." Calvin finally spoke up, his eyes were fixed on Ventura. She just smiled and tilted her head lightly, she could see Gingers face fall from amusement to borderline terror.

"You think I'm scared of some stuffy man?" 

"I think you're scared of bein' stupid." 

"Hm."

Ventura looked off towards the ocean, it was around noon then, she could tell by the way the sun was sitting in the sky. She kicked the sand watching as it swished from the ground and swirled over her foot before nodding lightly.

"Well, I shouldn't be dumb and chicken too." 

Before ginger or anyone else could argue Ventura turned on her heel and began to bound across the sand. 

"Ventura! No!"

Gingers voice rang out as the runner shifted her course closer to the shore where the sand was harder making it easier to run on. Armani was galloping behind her and once she was out of sight from the group she decided to mount the horse. She hadn't quite consciously decided on running back, but by the time she caught view of the village she realized the decision she had made.

Once landed and off the horse, she laid a hand against the beige hair of the beasts neck. She leaned her chin back to look into Armani's dark eyes, and she pursed her lips lightly.

"What do you think I should do?"

Of course the horse didn't talk back, it could fly- but it couldn't speak. Instead she flapped her wings to stretch them out before nestling them against her side, the gust of wind send Ventura's hair flying over her shoulders. 

She wished the horse could talk. But then again, what use would they have for a talking horse?

When she spotted the man, which was an easy task to do considering he stuck out in his thick robes like a sore thumb, she hoped he would be entertaining enough to make up for her mother's cold shoulder and lecture she was bound to receive later. 

"... Our community doesn't except families with young people. You may want to go check with them folk west of here." He was speaking to one of the old men who stuck with the commune the longest. Ventura smiled mischievously as she approached the group, she had a soft spot for theatrics and the prospect of her unexpected introduction excited her.

"Ain't ya cookin' in them gown?" She asked cutting elder Hans off. His eyes fell upon her and he looked slightly surprised, but soon fell to a neutral almost unamused expression. 

"And who might you be, young lady?" The man was short, his cheeks were blushed from the heat and his black hair layer flat against his scalp. But nonetheless he seemed relieved to see the girl.

"Ventura Way, you don't want nothin' to do with her- she's almost eighteen-"

"Perfect for a seventh year." The man dug into his pocket and pulled out a pamphlet, he beamed kindly at Ventura though she couldn't help but compare his expression to a deceptive snake.

"I've heard much about cunning little Ventura-"

"You must be desperate then." She smiled lightly as she crossed her arms over her chest. The man raised his eyebrows lightly but pressed on.

"Miss. Way, I'm here to give you a fine proposition- a highly sought after chance to formal education at the Hogwarts school of Witchcraft and Wizardry." He pulled the pamphlet up to his line of vision and was about to read from it before Ventura cut him off.

"What's your name?" She raised her eyebrow, the man seemed slightly taken aback as she smiled trying to ease him. "Ya can't sell me nothin' if you don't introduce yourself." 

It was salesmanship 101, to build a personal bond before making your sale. Perhaps his sales pitch had grown disappointing, he certainly hadn't been finding much luck in this part of the world.

"Omer Sparks." He lifted his chin lightly as if the sound of his own name filled him with pride as Ventura lifted her hand out for him to shake and formalize their introduction.

"I'm afraid I'm not here to sell you anything, the school of Hogwarts is offering you and any other nomadic wizard and witch an expense free experience."

He began to read from the pamphlet before Ventura reached her hand towards it. The man stopped mid sentence as he showed a Ventura the pamphlet, but her fingers bender towards her palm beckoning him to hand it over.

"I can read just fine myself." She beckoned. 

The man seemed surprised, and though she was slightly offended she didn't blame him- literacy was an oddity in those parts. He seemed slightly skeptical as he placed the pamphlet in her hand, Ventura cleared her throat as her eyes studied the moving picture of what looked like a castle. She sucked in her breath once she realized that was really the school.

Her mind ran to her imagination as she had only ever seen such buildings described in books. 

"Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry: An Inclusive and Enriching Educational Experience!" She read out the title in clear verbatim to prove to the man that she wasn't lying. 

"Fraid I'm already educated."

"This would be a once in a lifetime experience. Many students around the world dedicate their lives to get into this school." He pressed on as Ventura smiled lightly, her eyes opening the pamphlet to read more. 

"It's in Europe right?" She asked looking back up to him, his eyes brightened at the prospect that perhaps his trip to her commune hadn't been an entire waste. 

"Of course."

"I've always wanted to see Europe..." She looked over her shoulder, her eyes studied the ocean lazily rolling against the shore. The ocean was stagnant and unchanging, it'd be there for the next hundreds of thousand years- but this choice was only for today.

"I've moved around all my life 'n seen all of Australia- but never even a speck of dirt of some other countries land. Isn't that funny?" She said it mostly for herself but the man nodded and vocalized his agreement. She pressed her lips together when suddenly her mother's voice rang out from behind the man.

"Ventura!"

She moved her head to peer over the mans shoulder as her mother came quickly walking towards the pair. She pressed her lips together and frowned one corner of her mouth slightly as Susanna met the pair. Eileen stood beside her, looking more uncaring and calm than her mother.

"I'm sorry mister, you'll have to excuse my daughter- she's a bit not all there." She grabbed onto Ventura's arm as she scoffed rolling her eyes. 

"I was just speaking to her and she seemed sound of mind to me." He pressed on. "If anything she's been the brightest individual I've spoken to on my journeys."

"Ain't that as right as rain." Susanna seemed less than thrilled as she eyed Ventura who smiled innocently. Eileen studied the man before taking the pamphlet lightly from Ventura's hand.

"I was an exchange student at Hogwarts my last year." She commented as she opened the pamphlet to read over its contents. "I was a Hufflepuff."

"Gryffindor." The man stated yet he smiled kindly at Eileen.

"Brave." She nodded before her eyes fell upon Ventura. 

"What do you reckon my granddaughter would be sorted into?"

"Whatever house they put disobedient girls in-" Her mother was cut off by the man saying he supposed Gryffindor. But yet these titles meant nothing to Ventura who listened to Omer's explanation.

"She's too brave to be a slytherin. She's exemplified a certain amount of bravery to take on such an encounter, most of those I've encountered stray away."

"Yet she's as curious as a cat and slippery as a snake." She chuckled lightly. "The sorting hat wouldn't know what to do with that one."

Her mother seemed a bit agitated by Eileen's entertainment, she wanted nothing more than to take her daughter away from the conversation. School had been nothing but a cage for the two women, a complete denial and prison from life and experience. To insinuate that Ventura needed to go to school was an insult to the home schooling Susanna and Eileen had given her.

"He said it's a once in a lifetime opportunity." Ventura relayed to both of the women. "You got to go to formal school, suppose I should take a jab at it while I still can."

"She shows promise, she's read the most clearly I've heard in these parts." Omer added as Susanna's eyes squinted into a glare.

"Of course, I taught her myself- she's been reading since she was four." She set her hand to her hip as she continued. "I'm willing to be struck down by a higher power in this very moment if it's wrong of me to say that Ventura isn't as or more educated than the students back at your school."

"Susanna, don't be rude. The man wasn't insinuating a thing about Ventura's schooling." Eileen looked towards Ventura, a kind smile pressed against her lips. "Though she does provide a few excellent points- we had our chance, Ventura should choose for herself."

Ventura hadn't expected to get this far, in fact she hadn't given any of this much thought. But the prospect of living with any form of regret was daunting.

"I suppose it wouldn't hurt."

"Ventura!" 

But she stuck her hand out to Omer to seal the deal as if he had just sold her a house, and he shook it a bit too rough in his eagerness. Eileen laughed as Susanna glared at her for encouraging such a thing, and as Omer began to explain the journey to the school she gripped her daughters skinny arm.

"You have no idea what the hell you're getting yourself into."

And really, she didn't.


	3. Chapter Two

It was the first train Ventura had ever been on.

Out of the roughly thousands of nomadic children able to attend, only thirty-two volunteered to go. Most were about Ventura's age- if not older. With just as much thrill for the adventure, or perhaps lack of forethought. Perhaps a free trip to Europe sounded just as enticing to them as it had to herself. 

The windows framed a portrait worthy landscape of European Forrest and fields, all green and ripe with the summer season. It was all alive, the fields buzzed with bugs, birds flew in the ocean blue sky, the green grass blew lightly in the wind- Ventura wondered how such a thing like winter was only lurking around the corner.

Ventura had never seen a cold winter in her life, she wondered how such a thing like snow was capable in such an environment. How it could eat everything that was alive and spit it out gray and dead.

But the train ride was only beginning of new experiences and places to see. Hogwarts itself was the biggest building Ventura had ever laid eyes on. 

It was hidden in the mountains, and it's aged cobblestone exterior and Renaissance architecture left everything to the imagination. She imagined that she was a storybook princess, Cinderella or Snow White, strolling inside to relish in her wealth. 

The stone path was cool against her calloused feet, it felt like walking on silk when compared to the overcooked abrasive sand she was used to treading along.

Inside was where the first glimpses of the fabled uniforms came into reality. The real surprise was how content the students appeared wearing the same thing save for splashes of gold, red, green and blue depending on the student.

"We have arranged for your arrival to be a bit delayed from the other students." Omer Sparks was the leader of the group, he stood at the forefront of the crowd as the nomads eyes are up their surroundings. 

"I suppose this is many, if not all of your first time being in an academic facility. Now students- thats what you all are now- don't get too excited, there'll be plenty of time to explore."

No one from the group had been abundantly eager to step a toe more than a foot away from their fellow peer. The very sight of them was enough to make the passing students hush their conversations and gape at them- some few lacking manners pointed. 

They were a sight to behold- the girls hair were all varying colors of red, blonde, black, brown- but worn at the least to the waist. Some let their hair fall in its wild glory, with others decorated theirs with a few stray braids or shell beads woven in. Boy or girl, they were in next to nothing when compared to the student body.

Even Ventura had supposed her attire was conservative enough, her grandmother Eileen had warned her of the European wizards affliction towards skin. She was in the longest pants she owned- a beige linen that didn't hug her legs. Only her arms and mid torso were exposed, but now she might as well have been naked.

"We will begin by sorting you all into your houses- thats where the real fun of it all is." Omer Sparks seemed abundantly happy to share this knowledge onto the students, though this was replaced by disappointment by their lack of reaction.

"Then we will begin the placement tests."

This bore a reaction, the nomads glanced at each other with curiosity. They had never taken a test before.

They were taken into a great big hall, with rows of empty mahogany benches and tables that looked as though they could seat the entire school. In the middle was a long aisle, showing off the pristinely shined stone floor. 

Ventura liked the feeling of the floor even more than she enjoyed the path outside- it was like shined marble underneath her soles. When instructed, the nomads took their seats towards the front. There, at a long desk sat a long bearded man with round glasses that sat at the tip of his button nose.

He was seated like a king in a storybook, Ventura thought. His throne was gold with jewel encrusted detailing, the cushion was red velvet. Surrounding him were various men and women, all well into middle age and sitting in less lavish seating.

"Welcome to Hogwarts! We are proud to welcome you fine individuals, and hope your travels went accordingly." The bearded man stood up, he didn't yell but his voice boomed across the hall.

"I am headmaster Dumbledore, and the individuals surrounding me will be your future teachers and head of house." He nodded towards the men and women seated. 

"I would like to commemorate what an honor it is for Hogwarts to bestow upon you an opportunity of education and discipline that will last you all a lifetime. This honor couldn't have been possible without our Professor Omer Sparks incredible research and passion for the need that inflicts your communities.

"We will be beginning the sorting ceremony, a tradition here at Hogwarts that will decipher your most prominent characteristics- Brave Gryffindor, Cunning Slytherin, Loyal Hufflepuff and Clever Ravenclaw. Once you hear your name called by Professor Mcgonagal please come to the front of the room at once to allow the sorting hat to choose your house."

He nodded his head towards a wiry, scarecrow like woman with large eyes and a thin mouth. She didn't smile, instead she held her chin out high as her eyes lowered down to scroll she held with both hands. In loud pronunciation she called out the first name.

"Reef Gimmons." 

Reef was a small boy, of only twelve. He must have been the youngest to have parted, perhaps his parents wished for him to gain some bit of education. But regardless, he eagerly hopped up from the table and made his way to the front to not only find out what house he was to be placed in- but to set an example for his fellow nomads.

Professor Mcgonagal gestured towards a stool which sat in the middle of the front of the path. He did so, and she brought up a dusty looking worn out hat. Once it was placed onto his head, the hat began to speak much to the amusement of the group.

"Gryffindor!"

The group began to laugh at the oddity of a talking hat. Their giggles confused the professors, but nonetheless it eased the tension. Everyone now wanted the hat to speak for them.

"I bet you're going to be Gryffindor." 

Ventura looked away as Diamond Bay, a small blonde haired girl approached the sorting hat. The boy who spoke was broad shouldered, tan with dirty sun bleached hair. She knew him from the communes growing up, though they seldom found themselves in the same place as she had with Ginger.

Carmine.

"You're as stupid brave as they get."

"Adrenaline junkie and bravery aren't the same- once reckless the other has purpose." She said smiling lightly. 

"You don't have purpose?" He was teasing her. Ventura's dumb attention seeking escapades were legendary, the length at which she'd pull her acts were and how far she'd push the boundaries were infamous.

"Never." She said before turning her attention back to the front.

She had yet to hear one deviation from Gryffindor, Hufflepuff or Ravenclaw. Though she hadn't given much thought into what house she preferred, by the time her name was called she knew she did not want Slytherin.

As she went to make her way up, Carmine slapped her back assuringly. She strode to the front of the room and sat on the hard stool as those before her had. 

As Mcgonagal raised the hat over her head she began to envision herself as a Gryffindor- no, she most certainly had to be a Gryffindor. Her bravery was the most prominent trait about her, what else-

"Ravenclaw!"

Her eyes widened as she glanced up towards the hat which sat on her head. Her eyebrows raised just below its brim as she paused awaiting for it to better assess her.

But the Professor tore the hat from her head before it got a chance, Ventura rose to her feet as she knitted her eyebrows towards her. But Mcgonagal seemed not the least bit interested in this mixup, so Ventura made her way back to her seat.

"That's the one house I'd least expect." Carmine was trying to stifle his laughter as Ventura sat.

"It's just a gimmick." She glanced over at the hat which was now being placed onto a ginger boys head. 

She felt utterly cheated.

Carmine must have been self projecting because when his turn came he got Gryffindor. His brilliant wide tooth grin didn't diminish even when he sat down. What an honorable thing, Ventura though, that out of all your traits your bravery is the most prominent.

When all was said and done there were eleven HufflePuff, ten Gryffindor and three Ravenclaws. Next on the agenda was the dreaded placement quiz.

Professor Omer Sparks was the one who handed them out, wishing each new student luck. If it had been under different circumstances Ventura could have found his excitement infectious.

The other professors would have usually left after spectating the choosing ceremony, but their interest was piqued in the results of the placement quiz. How would these savages fair when compared to the average Hogwarts student?

As it turns out, not well.

The students sat in utter silence, after signing their names of course- but for most the few letters that spelled their own name was all they knew. 

They looked towards Professor Omer for further explanation but it was clear, they were expected to know what to do with the paper. 

Ventura sat in unison, though she could understand the paper well enough if not answer the questions correctly. But she sat comradely with her group.

"Y-you may begin." Omer Sparks was a bit bewildered, he had never seen a classroom full of students in a seeming strike against a test. 

"We did." Carmine spoke up, his voice boomed across the room with an echo. Some of the nomads smiled, others chuckled- even Ventura tried to suppress a smile.

Omer Sparks had just given a written test to a classroom full of illiterates, to smile and laugh was to add insult to injury.

"You measly little-" a black haired man with a long pelican like beaked nose muttered under his breath, his dark eyes illuminated with hazel fire. 

"You dare treat this prestigious opportunity like a joke? You dare laugh at our-"

"They can't read, Severus!" Dumbledore cut the man off from his rant early. The mans aged eyes looked at Omer.

"Not one of them is literate?" 

Professor Omer was now nervously looking out towards the students. He had long rallied for the education of the nomads, but without one diamond in the ruff- or the few he had even exaggerated they'd surely find out in the wasteland- he looked like a fool.

"I warned you that it was going to be trial and error- given a chance to learn I'm confident..." His voice trailed off as he spotted the bony shoulders girl. Her wild hair flew in every which direction in brown waves with a splash of sun dyed blonde. 

His diamond in the ruff. 

What was her name again? Vienna? Venchora? Ventara?

"Ventura Way." The sound of her name made the girl tense up.

The man approached her table and glanced at her paper. It was left blank, she hadn't even cared enough to sign it.

"Miss. Way, why haven't you begun your test?" 

The mans accusatory tone dipped in a layer of politeness made Ventura frown slightly. Around the room other students began to look at the pair quizzically as if trying to sniff out a traitor.

"It's Ventura." 

"I beg your pardon?"

"You called me Miss. Way. It's Ventura." 

"Oh god," Severus groaned as he set his back against his chair. But before he could unleash another tangent the headmaster interfered once more.

"He was only trying to be polite, Ventura." Dumbledore made it a point to emphasis her name to make sure he got the correct enunciation. 

Ventura didn't appreciate the extra attention. She crossed her arms over her chest and avoided looking at the paper altogether.

"I'm 'fraid I can't read, can't write hardly more than my own name- just the first, barely the last. Clueless on the middle. Can say the whole thing just fine, though." 

"But you didn't write your name- not the first nor the last, and certainly not the middle." He raised an eyebrow as though challenging Ventura.

She was beginning to regret ever reading in front of him.

"I told you this is all chicken scratch to me." She challenged right back. She even bunched up her lips in an attempt to sell the act.

The Professor studied her for a moment, as if waiting for the stubborn girl to fall into submission. But yet he turned his back to her- Ventura began to momentarily believe she won.

"We'll have to start with literacy classes and before we attempt the test again, in the meantime they should be kept separated from the rest of the student body. Students- thats what you all are now- don't take this silly test to heart, come time reading will be as second nature to you as breathing.

You will now be escorted to your robe fittings then your dorms. I will be there bright and early at seven a.m with breakfast and to escort you to class."

The students were already hopping up out of the bench, eager to stretch their legs and begin their next task. Ventura was one of them, she curled her back inwards in an attempt to stretch it- it had been an entire hour of just sitting.

As they trailed towards the door, Professor Omer grabbed hold of Ventura's arm.

"Not you, my dear." 

Ventura tugged her arm away, she tumbled with the idea of keeping up her rouse- but her demise laid in his memory.

She sat back down.

Once the room was cleared save for the professors staying to see the third act of the show- Omer Sparks began to lay into her.

"Why did you lie?" 

Ventura remained quiet, his ocean blues avoiding looking anyway but before her. 

"You can read, and thus I'm positive you can write- so why did you lie?" 

"You aren't in trouble." Dumbledore coo'd softly from the table. Ventura looked towards him for a brief moment, he was leaning into study her with the expression of one seeing a monkey wear a suit. They all looked down at her, she felt their line of vision tie around her throat and choke her. 

She began to wish she had just stayed home.

"You know nothing." Ventura stated finally. Omer Blinked.

"You've done so much research on us- but yet you gave them a test knowing full well none of them can read. Created a spectacle of it even- for what? Just to make an example that I can read and write? That I'm literate and they're not? No one likes to feel small. You should have just taken me aside and done it in private." She would have loved to add some profanities in, without the humorous coping of her friends laughing and smiling around her the injustice and mockery of her people began to sting.

"It was never my intention to-"

"Well that's exactly what you did."

The man pressed his lips together. He sighed, as though defeated- Ventura liked the sound of that.

"Perhaps, but again- it wasn't my intention. I hoped that I could weed out others like yourself. But you are a smart girl, Miss-... Ventura. You know just as well as I do that the lack of an education is on an epidemic proportion in your home. A society without education and learning is a society doomed to fall and become taken advantage of. I'm only trying to help." He slid the paper towards Ventura, his fingertips grazing over the wooden tabletop through the thin material.

"So let's help each other?"

Ventura pressed her lips together. She hated being beat.

She picked up her quill before muttering under her breath.

"I regret ever reading in front of you."  
.  
.  
.  
It was after she was fit for her robes was she instructed to wait outside in the hall on a wooden bench. The uniform was a bit stuffy and though the artificially cooled environment sent goosebumps dotting her sink kissed skin, she began to prematurely miss the few of the breeze. The only inch of her body left unclothed were her hands, face and as of recently her feet- the shoes were the first thing she tore off once instructed to sit. 

She clutched the handle of her suitcase, it didn't hold much- just enough clothes to get her by, though come winter she would be left out of luck. She was almost positive she would find a solution, she just had to begin scheming.

She watched as students trailed down the halls in black robes with red, blue, green and yellow ties as they chatted excitedly for the new school year. Some clutched books and others showed off an explained their wands or some gossip they had already uncovered- Ventura began to wonder how she would fit into this community.

"Why, you must be Miss. Ventura Way."

Though she was sitting she still found herself looking down at the owner of the voice- short man with a pompous suit as of to make up for his lack of height, he wore a spectacles and a neatly trimmed mustache which he twirled inquisitively at Ventura.

"I am Professor Flitwick, head of the Ravenclaw house. I'm here to show you to your dormitories and welcome you to your new home." He gestured for Ventura to get up, he was beefing widely at her as he craned his neck all the way back in order to get a good look at her.

"Traditionally we have fellow students give the tours but considering your heritage we presumed that it would be best for the staff to handle such matters. Though I doubt you'll have any trouble at all fitting in, you're a bright and quite a stunning individ- merlins beard! Where are your shoes?" He stopped to proclaim the oddity as Ventura held her suitcase in one hand as the shoes in question dangled from the other.

"My- must be a cultural quirk." He adjusted his glasses in discomfort as Ventura was amused that the man was so easily offended by her bare toes. 

"I don't mind being barefoot." She had spent most of her light running around with naked feet, her feet were well calloused and used to the feeling of the ground below them. If anyone needed shoes, it was those back on the commune- not the wizards here with their smooth marble and stone floors. Ventura was even hoping her feet would smooth over in their time here, and was looking forward to feeling the stone beneath her bare feet.

"Then would you mind wearing them?" He asked clearing his throat. "The other students might be offended."

"Offended?" Ventura asked. How did her lack of shoes matter to anyone? But still she slipped them back onto her feet, and wiggled her toes in the new confinements. She couldn't wait to tear the things off again.

"Right... well, Professor Omer has since graded your test. Didn't take long as it appears you would be the only one capable of taking it." He gestured her to begin walking, Ventura felt rude looking down at the man so instead she diverted her attention towards the walls which bore paintings. They weren't like the ones her mother and herself had painted, these were charmed to move. The figures went amongst their daily lives, those with multiple in one frame chatted amongst themselves while the occasional few eagerly greeted the pair as they walked by.

"You should be pleased to know you're right up to par for someone of your age." 

Ventura wasn't surprised, but she certainly wasn't pleased either. She would take learning the alphabet all over and learning to spell if it meant being put in a classroom with the others from her commune. But she held out hope that once they were literate, they would be able to pass the tests just as she had.

"You'll find that an intellectual such as yourself will find company in Ravenclaw-"

"I wouldn't describe myself as an intellectual."

"Certainly you must have some thirst for knowledge."

"I suppose."

"You're lack of shoes show you are a bit eccentric, ravenclaws bear many creatives."

"I suppose."

Ventura wasn't attempting to be rude but the idea of being crammed into a house was one thing- one that dictated your identity? It was strange to her, she certainly thought she was brave enough for Gryffindor, loyal enough for Hufflepuff- she had been described primarily as cunning by those around her, why did the sorting hat decide that her intellect was the emphasis of her personality? 

"Nervous are you?" Professor Flitwick asked raising an eyebrow and crooning hair neck once more to look up to the tall girl. Ventura gripped the handle of her suitcase with both hands letting her kneecaps hit the side of it as she gazed down at him.

"A little." More confused than anything, or perhaps not even that- she felt like a fish out of water, and she was just beginning to take a bite of her new surroundings. 

What have I gotten myself into.

"Only natural. You'll get used to it! Only takes a little time!"

They were lead up to a spiral staircase, there at the top of the floor was a large white door with blue and gold embellishments. The door lacked a keyhole or any type of knob to turn, instead a bronze eagle knocker sat in the middle of the frame.

"Go on," Professor Flitwick smiled eagerly as Ventura studied the door unable to be certain what to make of it. "Knock on it!"

Ventura raised her hand a bit hesitantly, but yet forcibly gripped the knocker and pounded it against the door. To her surprise the eagle squawked before speaking to her.

"Which came first? The Phoenix or the flame?" It asked in a deep voice. Ventura looked down at Flitwick who was still gaping eagerly at her as he nodded quickly.

"Interesting." Ventura offered, though her discomfort made her unable to find any real intrigue to the gag door. 

"Answer it, dear." Flitwick repeated the question to Ventura. "Other doors use passwords to get in, we use riddles- if you can't answer, you'll have to wait until someone can get in."

Ventura tilted her head lightly as she looked back towards the bronze eagle knocker, still waiting for her answer as he repeated it again. 

"Circles don't have a beginning." She answered cringing her eyebrows together as she looked back towards Flitwick as if seeking his approval. But yet the door opened, and Ventura was a bit surprised she had answered correctly.

"Marvelous!" 

Flitwick laughed before gesturing for Ventura to follow him as he entered the room. Ventura looked behind her for no particular reason before drawing in her breath and stepping into the room behind the Professor.

The room itself was very clean looking, minimalistic with white and blue checkered marble floors, blue drapes and a black globe. Wooden furniture with blue cushioning scattered about, and the students occupying it turned their attention towards the entrance of their head of house.

"I don't usually stop in." He admitted only loud enough for Ventura to hear as he smiled proudly at his students and waved at them.

"This is Ventura Way, she joins us here coming all the way from the fabled communes of Australia." He announced to the room, the students looked at each other in amusement as others eyes surveyed the girl like a circus freak.

"We have the honor of welcoming her into our house as a seventh year- I hope you all will make her feel right at home and show her to the girls dorm."

The room was silent as he smiled through the awkward pause. Ventura rolled her eyes lightly as she shifted her weight to her opposite leg leaning away from the man. She wanted to run out of the dorm, hop on her broom and zip herself back to Australia.

"I will."

A blonde girl with hair even longer than Ventura's offered as she hopped up from her seat. She had wide, bright blue unblinking eyes and a small mouth with moist features. 

"Ah, Miss. Lovegood! You two will carry along just fine, Miss. Way evidently shares your affliction against shoes."  
1  
"It grounds you better." She commented before extending her hand out towards Ventura and smiling sweetly at her. "I'm Luna."

Ventura went to go shake her hand, but to her surprise the girl clasped it and began to lead her towards the stairs. As she jumped to keep up with the girl, Professor Flitwick slipped a note into her hand- her schedule, he explained. 

"It's quite impressive you're entering in as a seventh year." Luna said as they climbed the stairs, she didn't turn to catch Ventura's reaction, and she was grateful to fully sneer at her remark. "I was under the impression that there weren't any schools on the communes."

"There isn't." Venture replied plainly pulling her hand away. Luna looked back at her and suddenly stopped, making Ventura halt suddenly as the girl stared at her emotionless.

"I didn't mean to offend you. Little is known about even the traditional Australian school there."

Ventura swallowed hard as Luna turned to head up the stairs, she wondered if everyone here was as aloof as the girl was. 

She lead her to a room, where blue beds and sofas sat in a circle. Each bed was accompanied by one wooden dresser, which Luna took Ventura's suitcase without asking and lead her to one of the beds.

"Here's where you will be sleeping, I hope the lack of privacy isn't too overwhelming- most of us have shared commodities, but if it gets to be too much you can pull the drapes over the bed." She pulled the drapes over the railing of the bed to display this to her, before drawing them back again to set the suitcase on her bed. 

"I shared a tent with my mother and grandmother." The lack of privacy was nothing new to Ventura, at least that remained unchanged.

"Do you miss them terribly?" The girl popped open her suitcase and Ventura looked on in surprise as she began to unpack her things for her.

"I-uh-It's only been a day." She had just seen them yesterday, when her and the rest of those descending towards the train station left on broomsticks. 

"But I'm predicting I most likely will, I've never been away for too long."

Luna's eyes flashed towards her as she spoke before looking down at her clothes. She held up a top, it was a short top made of thin fabric.

"You won't be getting much use of these here."

"I wouldn't get much use out of warm clothes there." Ventura quipped back, but Luna smiled lightly before putting it into the drawer.

"You'll manage." She paused for a moment, and Ventura didn't say anything to conclude the silence. Luna hummed lightly as she unpacked her belongings.

"I can do that mys-"

"Did anyone else in your commune get sorted into Ravenclaw?"

Ventura's words were choked back into her throat as Luna looked towards her expectantly. She seemed eager to know the inner workings of the new visitors.

"No one from my current commune came."

"That's a shame,you're all alone here."

"Well, you hop from commune to commune, so I've seen everyone around and at one point we were all of the same commune." She pressed her lips together and looked towards the side. 

She was almost ashamed to admit it, but she didn't want to offend Luna so she informed her of the influx of members hufflePuff and Gryffindor were to be expecting.

"That makes sense." She said suddenly as she finished up the last of it, as she leaned Ventura's broom against the dresser Ventura creased her eyebrows together.

"Huh?"

"I suppose it would take a lot of bravery, loyalty and hard work to upkeep that degree of a nomadic lifestyle. I would've been surprised if one of you were put into slytherin." 

"I've met my share of cunning folks-"

"Yes, but Slytherins are typically self serving. They wouldn't make it in a collective community." She smiled lightly before closing the suitcase and picking it up, sliding it under the bed. 

"My beds beside yours, I'll be sure to wake you up so you don't miss breakfast." She said as she stood up straight again. "It's a bit of a shame you didn't get sorted into Hufflepuff or Gryffindor. It's not that I'm trying to be unwelcoming- but typically Ravenclaws and Slytherins mix. That's unpleasant due to your friends being in the opposite pair, but also for the fact that Slytherins aren't too accepting."

Ventura frowned lightly, it was a strange concept to be not only sorted into a house but have that house dictate who you were and who you befriended.

"I'll manage." 

Luna smiled sweetly at her before nodding and looking down towards the ground.

"I know you will." Ventura watched as she carelessly walked towards the mouth of the steps and down them. She was grateful she hadn't been asked to go and meet the others.

She sat on her bed and sighed, before kicking her shoes right off her feet.


	4. Chapter Three

Luna had held true to her promise and woke Ventura up bright and early in time for breakfast. 

Ventura was accustomed to getting up with the sun, but even that still snoozed as the inky black of night was penetrated by the students lighting candles. She closed her eyes stubbornly, pleading in her head with unknown forces to grant her at least another half hour of sleep. 

But yet she got up, it was hard not to with Luna's encouraging and words of motivation.

"If you don't wake up, you'll starve."

That certainly surprised Ventura.

The room was soon light up by the girls getting ready. In there room, Ventura found, were Cho Chang and Padma Patil.

She only discovered their names because they stared at her while she sat it the shared vanity and combed out her hair. It was as if a dog had just gotten up and began speaking and putting on a suit- Ventura was certainly not a happy camper in the morning, while she had done a good job biting her tongue she spat out a low "Can I help you?".

"I'm sorry, Ive just..." Cho began but her words trailed off as she rummaged through her mental dictionary under the section politeness. 

"We've never seen a true nomad." Padma finished. "Is it true you truly aced the placement test?"

Ventura cursed herself for blushing.

"Well, I suppose that's why I'm here." 

"That you were the only one?"

"Yes."

"I thought there aren't schools out there, though?"

"Padma!" Cho rang out. Ventura pressed her lips together before her eyes shifted to herself in the mirror.

She did stick out like a sore thumb she supposed. Her skin was sun kissed and tan, a peculiarity here that would wear off she supposed. Her hair was wild and unkempt, even when she tan the brush through it the waves persisted and in some strands bushes up in a frizzy mess.

The manicured looks of the girls made Ventura for once look at her reflection, more so in the ways she appeared unpolished- or more so untamed.

She was different to the girls, it was a feeling she had never quite got a true taste of. She was so used to being painfully normal, that she felt like her skin had just turned bright fuchsia.

"... you can't just ask people those types of things! It's quite rude of you!" Cho was hissing to Padma in a low voice as the girl defended her point.

"I suppose it's only fair for you to ask questions." The statement made both girls look up, their eyes soon filled with delight.

While they asked their questions without the shackles of politeness, Ventura began to run the brush through her hair in an attempt to smooth it down.  
.  
.  
The mess hall was filled with more food than Ventura had seen in her life, save for the festivals such as the Yule, Mabon or Beltan- it was hard to believe the students lived with this much abundance every morning.

Ventura had been given a schedule, and just as the tests had been given to the illiterate- she could render no meaning of the classes.

She wandered the hall studying the first class- Charms 7:30 a.m to 8:45 a.m. Ventura raised her eyebrows as she saw Filius Flitwick taught the class, perhaps the schedule was like another password to the door. If you can't solve the riddle you don't get into the dorm or to class.

"Charms... charms... charms..." She repeated under her breath. 

She regretted not comparing her schedule with the other Ravenclaw girls when given the chance...

"You look quite lost." 

Ventura stopped her fast paced walk to look ahead at the auburn haired girl. Her hair was even more wild than Ventura's, the only look of manicured to her was the fact that it was chopped to her collarbone.

Ventura could see herself liking her.

"I am." She admitted as the girl reached her hand out to see the piece of paper. To her disappointment the girl didn't say her name even after she received the paper.

She was beginning to realize that the inception of a good introduction was a proper exchange of names must have been only held in high regards where she was from. She had to dig for these peoples names. 

The girl laughed lightly as she shook her head, her brown eyes dancing across the paper.

"You're headed the wrong way." She said bandit he schedule back. Before Ventura could frown the girl waved towards herself.

"Come with me, I have charms with Professor Flitwick too. But strange you're still lost- schools been in session since-"

"I'm Ventura." The girl couldn't hold it back any longer, not knowing the girls name was eating her alive. The girl blinked.

"Way. Ventura Way." 

"Oh..."

She felt like she was making just as strange of an impression on the girl as Luna had on herself. She wondered if Luna thought of her as weird and was just better at hiding it.

"What's your name?"

"Granger- I mean... Hermione- Hermione Granger..." She momentarily appeared to regret offering an act of charity this early in the morning. 

"I'm not from around here." Ventura said sheepishly. "I'm from Australia, only my first day."

Hermione's eyebrows cringed, but soon her face seemed to give a whisper of excitement.

"You mean the-"

"Communes." She began to walk in the direction Hermione was headed. She tensed her shoulders as she braved herself, she begun to feel the choking sensation once more though she wasn't sure why.

"I thought no one passed the placement test- couldnt even read it-"

"Well I did."

"That's amazing!" It didn't sound directed towards Ventura, more so the fact that she was speaking to someone of such a bizarre background.

"When I heard about the exchange program, I went to the library and tried to do as much research as I could- but hardly a thing is known about them to put into a book."

"Maybe they aren't so interesting." 

"I would give anything to live a week down there, really find out what goes on. So many rumors and speculation- I really like to get my knowledge from books, ya know? That's why I want to be a researcher one day, work for the ministry of magic and go out on the field. Wouldn't that be fun? Only problem is I can't seem to find one particular field to focus on, I want to know them all-"

Hermione certainly had a lot to say. Ventura found it endearing in a way, it gave her less time to talk about herself. She couldn't even bear to tell Hermione that if she came to the communes under the guise of research- she'd be shunned. It was insulting how they would come, trying to experiment with their culture and build false relationships as though they were at a wine tasting party.

No one likes to be studied like a specimen of bacteria.

"Oh, I'm talking too much... I have a habit of doing such a thing- but I'm trying to get better, really." 

"It's fine." Ventura pressed her lips together as they neared the classroom. "But I hate to tell you that you shouldn't dedicate your life into researching the communes, we aren't keen on researchers."

Hermione's eyes widened but before she could begin apologizing Ventura continued.

"But if you just ask, I'll tell you anything you'd like to know."

Hermione blinked.

"It's not a secret?"

"No." Though Ventura did feel as though she was holding onto a secrete that everyone wanted to know, but really few wanted to understand.

"Like I said it's as easy as just asking as long as it's genuine."

It was like a faucet had been turned on, Hermione's lips began to gush out a stream of questions that didn't end even once they were seated in the classroom.

"Hermione, who's your new friend then?" 

"Yeah, 'n why's ya yappin her ear clean off?" 

The first thing that struck Ventura about the first boy was his coke bottle glasses with thick lenses. Secondly, the scar that edged along his hairline. 

She wondered how someone could get such a funny looking scar... but it didn't seem appropriate to ask, evidentially he used his thick dark hair in the effort to hide the mark.

"Ron, Harry- this is Ventura Way." Hermione seemed almost proud as she showcased the girl. "She's Australian, and has the ever most interesting back-"

"So she's a traveler?" The red headed boy asked in surprise. Hermione's mouth fell agape, if he had been sitting right beside her Ventura supposed she would have punched him.

"Ron! That is a quite rude thing to say! Why you're no better than a pure blood-"

"I am a pure blood."

"What's a traveler? Is that what you all call us?" Ventura had heard the word, but the way Hermione reacted wondered if she truly knew what it meant.

"Don't mind him Ventura, he's still being house broke." Hermione snuffed up her nose at Ron before her attention turned back to her new friend.

"I don't know what it means, I haven't heard it."

"Its a derogatory term." Harry explained. "It implies you're uncivilized-"

"But of course only imbeciles use such terms." Hermione was still glaring at Ron, his red lips in an exaggerated O as his brown eyes squinted at the girl. 

Ventura pressed her lips together, before she could say another word Professor Flitwick began the lecture. As the man spoke she realized it was a repetition of what she had been taught by Susanna and Eileen...

She wondered what they would've made of the word- traveler. Would they tell her to brush it off or defend her people all while just as offended as Hermione had been? She didn't really care, but she would've given anything to hear the answer. She would've given anything really, just to hear be near them enough to speak...

Great... the first day and she was already homesick. 

It was after the class that Hermione asked Harry to walk her to Defense against Dark arts- evidently it was a class they had together. Of course Hermione would know this, and further more know that Ventura didn't have a clue where the class was being held.

"Defense against Dark Arts?" Ventura cringed her eyebrows together as she looked towards Harry's lense protected doe eyes.

"What is that?"

"Defensive magic." Harry had begun walking and Ventura followed. "It's in the name- defensive training against dark magic."

"Dark magic?" Ventura parroted. She had heard of Dark magic, but such a thing was only an idea.

"I thought you were home schooled?"

"I was but I never learned that. Why do they bother with it?" 

"The wizarding world is at a very tense moment right now... I'm even surprised they opened the exchange program with how things are looking." 

Ventura was tempted to clarify that in her world the atmosphere was anything but tense, but she wasn't one for bragging. Also, the way Harry explained the reasoning behind the class made her uneasy.

"You don't know?" 

"No."

Harry turned his head to look at Ventura, he studied her as if searching for any sign of deception. But her eyes glittered with the naivety of a newborn.

"I suppose you must be the only witch who doesn't know who I am or the prophecy." As soon as he said it he looked momentarily as though regretting saying such a thing.

"Look- you see this scar right on my forehead there?" He stopped to pull back his mass of brown hair, the scar shown as though the wound had only healed months ago. The skin around it was still pink and fresh, with it in full view Ventura could make out the unique shape.

"It looks like a lightning bolt." She smiled. "What a funny scar to have."

Harry removed his hand letting the hair fall back into place.

"Are you aware who Voldemort is?" 

"No." A funny name to go with the story of a funny scar.

"He's a dark wizard, he's utterly powerful- second only to Albus Dumbledore." 

"And this warlock gave you a scar?" She said it almost in a teasing voice. Harry felt momentarily offended, but upon realizing how a thing might sound to someone on the outside he couldn't help but finding himself relax.

"I suppose it does sound a bit strange."

"So what's he got to do with anything?"

Thus Harry told her the prophecy- how as a baby Voldemort attempted to Avada Kadava him, but somehow the scar was the only thing to show for it. How he had a legion of followers all ready to come up in arms and take over the wizard world- and soon the muggle world. 

"They don't believe muggles deserve to live, if they succeed all those they deem with tainted blood and muggles will be killed."

Ventura pressed her lips together, the whole thing sounded like something out of a book she'd read alongside the beach of boredom took a hold of her too firmly. But she never imagined that things like this could happen- at least not now.

"I don't mean to scare you-"

"So that's why they teach the class?" She asked. "I thought this was a school, not an army."

Harry smiled a bit sheepishly. They had already neared the doorway to the classroom and were standing in front of each other. Harry was surprised by how at ease he felt, for telling his most traumatic story he found that Ventura was easy to talk to. Her naivety was almost calming.

"Well, I suppose it's better to defend yourself, just in case." He said it gently, his voice almost cooing in fret that he truly did scare the girl. 

"Harry-" She began as he turned to lead the way into the classroom. "Is it true- I mean- I believe you but..."

The boy tensed up.

"But- we'll be ok, right?" 

Harry grinned and shook his head as if such a doubt was possible.

"Voldemort doesn't stand a chance, your home probably won't even get a whisper of his second coming." He gestured her to follow- they were on the border of being late.

Ventura sat down beside Harry. She pressed her lips together and hoped that she wouldn't be too far behind, but if her other classes followed suit to her previous- she'd have plenty of time to study and catch up.

But yet she felt uneasy, still. 

As the teacher rang out Ventura found she couldn't keep her mind focused on the lecture. Her mind swirled with caricatures of what she supposed this Voldemort character to look like, how she would react if he burst through the doors- more so how a person like him could exist.

A note, shaped and folded into the shape of a owl, flew onto her table and right in the middle of her open textbook. The bird flapped it's paper wings waiting for the girl to open it.

Her fingertips lightly brushed over the owls head before tracing over the skillfully crafted creation. She opened it.

Savage tramp, go home

Under was a caricature drawing of her, only her teeth were sharpened and her hairs wildness was exaggerated. She felt her locks insecurely as she checked over her shoulder, a fat boy nudged an unimpressed stoic looking blonde.

Ventura swallowed.

"Don't mind him, he's utterly immature." Harry whispered to her after his eyes settled on the note.

"He's only trying to impress Malfoy."

"Why would he think such a thing would impress anyone?" 

Clearly the plan didn't work. Malfoy, who she presumed the blonde headed boy was, didn't even look in her direction to see her reaction. Instead his dark eyebrows lifted lightly in mock amusement before turning sullenly to the teacher as if he had a bad taste in his mouth.

Venture had never seen a boy quite like him. His hair was almost white, but his pale skin was evidence that it hadn't acquired its color from the sun. Everything about him was sharp, his nose, his cheekbones, jaw- his gray eyes stared out at the world as if trying to slice it. 

Suddenly his eyes flickered over to her, and she realized she was staring. She turned away. 

"He's a death eater."

"A what?"

"A death eater." Harry repeated. "A follower of Voldemort."

She was tempted to turn her chin over her shoulder just to get one more look at him- just to compare the reality of him to what she had imagined a follower of Voldemort looking like.

"Really?" Ventura whispered even lower now to prevent the boy from hearing. "Why do they let him at the school?"

"Well..." Harry suddenly seemed embarrassed as he looked dejectedly towards the front of the classroom at the Professor. 

"You can't be too sure... there's no proof- but... trust me I know."

Ventura sucked in her breath, a sudden tingling sensation racing down her spine as if a ice cube had been slipped down the collar of her shirt. She instinctively raced her hand over to feel Harry's arm, needing to feel grounded. 

Harry tensed up.

"Sorry, in my culture we're hands on." 

Everyone seemed so tensed, almost glueing their arms to their sides in order to not touch one another. 

"It's alright." Harry said as Ventura's hand loosened from his arm, she withdrew it before he stopped her.

"You can set your hand back, if you'd like." 

She did. But instead now she set her hand into his, intertwining her fingers with his own. Harry's eyes widened as Ventura smiled, her eyes shifted to the front of the classroom. 

It was nice to feel someone's skin on her own, she felt touch starved in the day she had been there. No one touched her back, set their hand on her shoulder, or even hugged her briefly. It made her feel a little slice of home.

The next class was potions, which according to Harry- the Professor was unrelenting towards him and borderline unbearable.

"But, I can show you the way to the classroom." He said. 

He even went as far as walking her to a decent place to sit, beside Luna who he had taken upon himself to introduce Ventura too.

"Ventura, I'm so glad to have our paths cross again." Luna said sweetly as the girl sat beside her. Harry blushed in embarrassment but Ventura reached over to set her hand on his.

He seemed to relax and nodded his head before dismissing himself.

"You better be careful." Luna said softly as soon as  
the boy left. Ventura turned to her confused but Luna kept going.

"I know in your collective culture affection is given more platonically- but here it's a rarity."

"I've only met him today." But Ventura was growing to like Harry despite him scaring her, but it was in this fear that she learned his honesty. But most of all he didn't touch starve her.

Just then a loud scream of the door slamming abusively to the back of the classroom pierced the students ears. In came in bounding strides a man in all black- Professor Snape.

The little light that managed to squirm through the windows were thrown out as he glided down the path closing each and every blind. Ventura tensed up at every one of the horrific sounds.

She looked towards Luna who seemed unfazed.

Snape then turned to the class, his beak like nose looking down at the students as his dark eyes looked at no one in particular with borderline disgust. He seemed to hold the ferocity of a black panther, perched in a tree scanning for his next victim.

"It would appear we are... graced with the presence of a particularly peculiar student." Each word oozed out like slime, gooey and articulate in a nasally drawl.

Ventura raised her chin lightly as she locked eyes with the man and though the act was intended to seem brave, her naive eyes widened in fear like a lamb.

"Ventara Way joins us having been brought all the way from Australia." Snape didn't sound excited nor pleased to state this fact. Ventura pressed her lips together as his eyes fell on her, the pause beckoning her to speak.

"It's Ventura."

Snape's eyebrows raised. 

"Ventura- like the Highway, there's no a after the t- it's a U. U-R-A Way." She said gaining a bit more confidence. He looked to her and she almost thought that again he had not heard her clearly.

He breathed heavily before gazing out at the class.

"It has come to my attention that some students seem to be... far less gifted than others. It would appear it is either my teaching or due to a lack of motivation- so in this case I have decided to pair those more unfortunate with those more outstanding to give way to a bit of competition." 

Ventura pressed her lips together, she couldn't help but wonder if this new rule was set in place due to her arrival.

"I will be taking account previous test scores, there will be a seating chart set in place and no more free willed partners- who I set you with will be that. Those with average scores- this will not apply."

With that he began to pick and choose which papers he handed to who. The room was mixed, lower achieving students hoped they didn't get a letter at all and be deemed average, while others were upset with who they were partnered with. 

When he got to Luna and Ventura's table he handed a slip, first to Luna then Ventura.

"I haven't taken a test-" She handed the paper back to him but the Professor didn't move.

"Better safe then sorry." Snape's words coiled out like a snake. "You should be open to new experiences, that is what you're here for, is it not?"

Ventura pressed her lips together in submission as the man strolled casually on his war path. Ventura looked down at the paper, her eyes widened.

Draco Malfoy

The Death Eater!

Her heart pounded in her chest as she looked up just in time to see him sneer in disgust at was predictably her name written on the paper Ventara.

"He's only sorting you out, I don't believe he thinks you're very bright-"

"He put me with Malfoy!" She cut off Luna in a hushed whisper, her panic mimicking the reaction she imagined Harry would have.

"He's rough around the edges."

"He's a," She whispered the title- Death Eater.

"Well, I don't suppose he'll sacrifice you to he who shan't be named in the middle of Potions." Luna set her chin in the palm of her hand.

"He's not all bad- I don't even think he's a death eater really, he's nasty and cruel- but I think his image gets misconstrued into fantasy at times."

Ventura pressed her lips together, she looked over hesitantly at Draco who was now showing the paper to a few fellow Slytherins who eagerly giggled or offered sympathy.

She felt embarrassed.

"You may now sort your new seats amongst yourselves." Snape beckoned as he stood at the front of the class. 

Ventura hoped that Draco would come to her instead of making her sit in the middle of the slytherin den. But yet she got up and collected her things.

"Oh and Ventura,"

She turned her attention to Luna who grinned a bit sleepily.

"Don't share your culture habits with Draco," She cautioned. "He may be as receptive, but his intentions won't be as innocent as Harry's."

Ventura felt even more uneasy by this, but no matter she would have to taste the boy for herself. 

She approached the table, Draco's previous table mate had left the empty seat for her. To her relief, there was no new note with her caricature drawn sloppily onto it.

She sat down before studying the boy for a moment. She realized that the boy looked even sharper up close, but like an Ancient Greek sculpture. It was as if the gods had chiseled his face and personally sown each and every eyelash, and dipped his plump lips red with cherries. Ventura had never seen anyone look quite like him, so polished with almost albino like features.

He was interesting.

"I'm Ventura." She said as his gray eyes fell upon her, she had been staring yet again. 

"You made a big enough fuss about it, didn't you." He muttered but his eyes fell back to the front of the room, already wishing to shake the girl off. 

"Take a picture, why don't you? It'll last longer." He could still feel her doe eyes gazing onto him, studying him as if trying to pull apart and put him back together. It was utterly analytical, he hated it

"I've just never seen anyone like you." Or felt anyone like him. At the communes, energy was a central point to their magic. Everything in the universe was energy, magic, people, feelings- and Ventura felt icy cold sitting beside him.

Draco shuddered- suddenly he felt warm. Ventura stopped focusing on his energy.

"You probably have, you're just too dim witted to remember. I'm even surprised you manage to excel this far into the conversation with how evolutionary failing your species is."

The boy spoke quickly, as if spitting the words out. He glanced slightly at her to see her reaction but the Snape's began class once more.

Your species.

What does that mean?


	5. Chapter Four

The Australian communes were the melting pot of the wizard world.

It wasn't unusual to see a magic carpet in the mix of broomsticks- though Ventura liked riding carpets, she found broomsticks easier to manage. They also practiced a mix of wand and wandless magic, and heavily believed in energy, and energy healing.

The nomads believed that they were born more tuned into the energy around them and how to manipulate it, while muggles were less fortunate though were able to practice what could be considered soft magic- or as they called it, watered down intuitive magic.

Intuitive magic. They believed all things- especially magic- was energy, and thus practiced reiki and chakra like healing methods that were heavily practiced. Ventura liked to tap into people's energy, most of the time she found neutral tones- a equal balance of happy and sad. Stressful energy weighed on her chest, anger gave her a headache, sadness made her feel like she was melting- but Draco... he was cold.

She had never felt an energy like this, so mangled and twisted with emotions and intent she had never encountered before. It was chilling, yet it made her even more intrigued.

"What god do you worship?"

Ventura looked up from her writing, Hermione had taken a rare pause from her work to ask open up the rabbit hole. 

"I read a book- it said you all believe in pagan gods, like Aphrodite, Zeus, Athena- is it true?"

It was true, every year during Samhain- believed to be the easiest time of the year to speak to the gods- the nomads from all over would gather to celebrate the harvest and the newly turned eighteen year olds. They would line up outside of a tent, and one by one the oldest elders would perform the choosing ritual. The teen would then be chosen by a god to make alters to, and it was believed that they would aid in their magic and better their special traits. 

For example, those chose by Aphrodite were skilled at love and fertility potions. Followers of Artemis had a natural green thumb and were skilled with agriculture spells and potions. 

"I won't know until I turn I'm old enough." Ventura said softly.

"Do you have an idea?"

"No"

"Do you have a choice?"

"No. It's whoever chooses me." Though, Ventura wasn't sure how the choosing ceremony went. You weren't allowed to say after going through it, it was considered bad luck.

"Who do you think will do that?"

"I don't know."

"Who do you want?" 

"I'm not sure, I haven't given it much thought." She felt bad over her short answers, but that was the truth- the world of gods and goddesses was more so carried on by tradition. But still she offered Hermione a bone. 

"I know for a fact, I don't want Artemis." She said softly. The girls eyes widened a bit in surprise, but she leaned in eagerly.

"She's the goddess of chastity." Ventura went on raising her eyebrows hoping Hermione got the point. She sighed once the girls ears gobbled up every word she said, and stared back at her hungry for more.

"We all are supposed to keep our chastity sacred until we turn eighteen- you know in case we get chosen by Artemis-"

"The slate isn't wiped clean?" Hermione cringed her eyebrows together.

"No. You're suppose to live your life in a way that honors your god, bad things are said to happen to those who break Artemis's chastity vow... I once heard of a girl who lost her virginity when she was sixteen- something... inside ended up tearing- she had an awful infection that she let fester until it was nearly too late she was just too embarrassed to get help. As it turns out, Artemis chose her."

"Are you sure that's not just bad luck?" Hermione smiled at Ventura's mother's tale. Ventura shrugged and looked back down at her paper.

"Maybe. But I don't want to find out." 

"You think Artemis will choose you?"

"Who knows." She hesitated for a moment and studied Hermione. 

"Say, in that book you read-..." She paused not exactly knowing how to word her question as the cold and disgusted tone of Draco's voice uttering the word 'your species' dripped into her consciousness.

"What does it say about my species?" 

"I'm afraid I'm not quite sure what you mean, we're all from the same species." Hermione paused, and the corners of her red mouth twitched lightly as if threatening a frown. Ventura could tell she was scanning the encyclopedia of her mind to give her a polite explanation.

"Well... some like to mark your group off as an entirely different species- but the same goes for myself being a muggle born. Elitist have a tendency to want to stay exclusive."

"So what do they base it on?" 

Hermione looked as though the seat she was sitting on was extremely uncomfortable, she shifted lightly before sighing.

"I suppose it's only because of how... reclusive you all are- but there's some theorists who believe your brain is smaller than that of a normal born wizard."

"Because of where I'm from?" Ventura asked a bit too sharply, but really the idea seemed bizarre to her.

"Anyone with sense knows it's not true- but... like I said there's people who will do anything to build up walls that differentiate them from those they deem... unsavory."

Ventura leaned back in her chair, she casted her eyes out over the student body that occupied the classroom, though Draco didn't have charms that hour. 

He thinks I have a chicken brain!

Who else believes that too?

Ventura didn't like being made a fool of, it was incredibly insulting and something taken personally.  
.  
.  
.  
Ventura entered the classroom, she was a bit late- to which Snape made sure to chastise her greatly for the entertainment of the other students, before she found her seat beside Draco.

The class had already begun working on an assignment, and Draco dusted her half of the work over to her side with the feather of his quill. 

Too dirty to even risk touching.

Ventura sat down and looked down at the paper. She pressed her lips together, the boy hadn't even greeted her.

She tapped her fingers lightly on the table, wondering how best to execute a revenge plot that didn't involve physical brute strength and strangling the snob with his own tie. 

But then, an origami shaped butterfly fluttered onto her desk. Her eyebrows raised in surprise, before her face fell lightly as she remembered what the previous note she received contained.

She gently opened the note.

Slytherin party after the Quidditch game, I'll let you in VentU-R-A Way.

\- Theo 

Her eyebrows raised lightly as she read over the note, her eyes shifted up just as Draco's gray eyes flickered to his book. She pressed her lips together as she spotted the green tie that was skillfully tied around his collar.

How fitting a member of his own clan deemed her worthy of entering their common room.

But yet a delicious idea bloomed.

"Can you read this?" She handed the note over to Draco, his eyes shot up towards her in a glare.

"You can't read cursive?" He growled. Ventura pressed her lips together, trying to keep a straight face.

"Is that what this is?" She asked cooly. "It doesn't make much difference, never learned to write more than my own name."

"What?"

"I'm sure you're aware of my condition." She tapped her noggin.

Draco's face was momentarily blank save for his intense glare, before he leaned back in his chair scoffing and shaking his head with disgust.

"So what's this now? You do realize I'm being graded based on your performance- and you're so utterly useless you can't even read-"

"Or write." Ventura added.

Draco studied her for a moment before shaking his head. Instead of taking the note, he grabbed the assignment sheet off of her desk.

To her surprise he began to quickly fill out the answers, forcibly making his handwriting sloppier as if mimicking what he believed her handwriting might have looked like. Ventura couldn't believe he cared about a participation grade so much.

"U-R-A-"

"Way, I'm well aware. You've made me painfully aware." The boy growled as he signed her name at the top. 

She smiled smugly as she leaned back into her chair- this was one academic workload she could now cross off her list.  
.  
.  
.  
"Who's Theo?" 

The dinner table was full of red and gold ties, Ventura's blue stuck out like a sore thumb in the proximity of the Gryffindors.

"Which one?" Hermione asked. "What's his last name?"

"He didn't sign it- but he did invite me to a slytherin party after the quidditch game- which I've never been to a quidditch game or to a school party." She said it almost excitedly, she was eager to see a real life quidditch game and more so to compare the students parties to those on the communes.

"A slytherin party?" Ron asked taking a pause from shoveling food into his mouth. Hermione looked at her hesitantly, but it was Harry who spoke up.

"It must have been Theodore Nott."

"Theo Nott? Why would he invite a nomad? His family's as elitist as they come- he's a pure blood snob!" Hermione gasped. But Ventura didn't pay any mind, the name held no meaning to her.

"We should all go together, it might be fun." 

The trio gave her apologetic looks, Ventura stiffened as she was afraid she had said something to offend them. As she double checked her analog, Harry spoke.

"Well... you see- Slytherins and Gryffindors don't really mix."

"It's like oil and water, it is." Ron nodded in agreement, his cheeks puffed with the food he was chewing on. "Rotten the whole lot of them."

Ventura seemed slightly disappointed by this, what fun would it be if her new friends couldn't share the experience? It was like she was back in the commune with yellow bellied Ginger, too scared to do anything worth doing. 

Like on the communes with Ginger though, she was determined not to miss out on this opportunity. Even if it meant going alone.

"Don't tell me you're actually going, are you?" Hermione asked as Ventura's face didn't contort to show her disgust in the invitation.

"I'm only thinking about it." But she knew she was going to go. "It's in a few days anyway."

She changed the subject to the quidditch match, which she found out that Harry was a seeker on the Gryffindor quidditch team. But Slytherin and Hufflepuff would be facing off that day- but Ventura couldn't help but let her eyes wander the hall.

It had only been a few days, but since she had been separated from her group she had yet to see one familiar face from home. Not ever when she ventured outside or even in passing in the halls- she hadn't even seen Professor Omer Sparks. 

"... The slytherin team likes to play dirty, Hufflepuff tends to stick to the rules and keep it fair- no wonder the Slytherins are already celebrating, dirty lot-"

"Have you seen any other nomads?" Ventura burst out of her thoughts. Harry seemed surprised only for a moment as he looked towards Hermione, who shrugged.

"Reckon you're the only one-"

"No, no- I came with about thirty others give or take." She said scanning the mess hall one last time on a false hope. 

"I know they're taking literacy classes but I haven't even seen them in the halls-"

"Perhaps they're keeping them separated from the rest of the students." Ron offered as Hermione glared at him. He raised his red eyebrows innocently at her, almost offended that she accuse him of fowl play.

"No, they are- but I just thought they meant... class wise- they can't be keeping them in their dorms can they?"

Before anyone could utter a word a flock of birds came swooping into the hall, filling the room with excited gasps of excited chatter. As the birds neared the table Ventura identified them as owls- she had seen them only in illustrations or pictures, though.

She wondered how their wings were able to carry their fat bodies as they dropped letters and parcels to the recipients.

"What's that?" Hermione almost gasped as she pointed up towards the air. 

It was a pink and white bird, with a brilliant wingspan. His headrests of feathers curled against his scalp as his nimble body swooped past the owls and to the recipient of his letter.

Ventura blushed as the bird perched on the table, flapping its wings in a bragging fashion for all to gaze upon. And gaze they did.

Even her bird cockatoo was clueless to the social norms in their carrier bird world, while the owls delivered their letters silently- he demanded attention and thanks.

"Uh... it's Monte- he's a Major Mitchel's cockatoo." She gently scratched under his chin politely before taking the letter from under his feet.

"Go on then." She waved her hand ushering the bird to go on his way.

"Ventura Vera!" The bird squawked. Ron chuckled as the bird flapped his wings making her hair fly back over her shoulder.

When Ventura did manage to get the bird to realize she had nothing to give him, he glided off into flight along with the owls.

"How funny- I've never seen a mail parrot." Hermione laughed in amazement. The girls fingers were already undoing the twine that held the letter together, 

Of course, who else.

"He's a bit of an attention seeker." She slipped the letter into her pocket. "But he's a good bird."

"I suppose owls wouldn't fair comfortably in the heat." Harry remarked. How would a Major Mitchell's Cuckatoo withstand the cold come winter?

How was Ventura going to stand the winter? Or the other nomads?

She watched as the bird flew with the other owls, his pink and white feathers were the exclamation point of the flock. His theatrics weren't needed to get him the attention he so craved...

Ventura felt her mass of wild hair.

"I have to go." Ventura looked down at her meal, only a quarter finished but still she got up.

"Ventura, where are you going?"

She didn't turn to answer Hermione as she exited the dining hall. She paused as she was left standing in the empty hallway, nothing but cans light illuminating the empty corridor and echoes of chatter.

She had to speak to Professor Omer Sparks, or better yet to her friends. The cold of the empty hall began to chill her to the bone, or perhaps it was her subconscious fear of winter. Or the fact that not even her cockatoo even fit in here- or how she had no idea where to go or why she had to leave so abruptly only to be-

"Lost?"

The boy was tall, with a broad build. In the dim candlelight his well kept dark hair shone like gloss on a magazine. His brilliantly white teeth were gleaming in the moonlight as he smiled, realizing he had frightened the girl.

"Do you know where Professor Sparks would be?" 

The boy now got closer, his well polished shoes tapped against the marble floor. Ventura would have found him kind of she didn't see the green of his tie poking through the collar of his robes.

Was he a death eater?

"Missing your fellow nomads?" 

Ventura pressed her lips together. The boy quickly backtracked.

"That was rude- I suppose it's only natural. It's just hard to... picture you with them."

"Why aren't you in the dining hall?" She asked hoping her voice didn't sound as meek as she felt. Must be sacrificing offerings to Voldemort-

"I was getting some extra curricular in- tutoring some first years in charms." He raised an eyebrow as if toying with the girl. "Would you like me to escort you to Professor Sparks office? He should be still in, always most dedicated to his studies."

Ventura didn't say anything.

"You know it's against school policy to have students roaming the halls unaided, right?" He went on. "But lucky for you, I'm a prefect- you won't get into any trouble if you're with me. Plus,"

He smiled exaggeratedly, his teeth were ivory white.

"I don't bite."

Ventura was tempted to ask him if he were a death eater, but she supposed one wouldn't be honest about such a thing. Instead she introduced herself.

"U-R-A Way?" He chuckled lightly. "I'm Nott... Theodore Nott."

He said it in a way that implied Ventura should understand the weight his very name carried. This is who sent the note?

"But please call me Theo." 

He certainly wasn't what she imagined, in a way he was like Draco. Only his features were softer and less intense- but his polish and posh aura fit the profile. 

"Why would you invite me to a party?"

He just chuckled at her bluntness.

"You've only been here for what- not even a week and you've already considered yourself so low on the student body totem pole?"

She thought over this, but yet she was eager to feel him out. There had to be a motive...

"You think I'm evolutionary defunct."

"People do believe that." Theo mused casually. "But I never said I was one of them. If anything I think those kind are a bit hypocritical and contradictory in their own beliefs" 

Ventura was already beginning to let her guard down. Perhaps she was hypocritical too, she had so despised the idea of houses yet she was beginning to realize that she herself were building stereotypes.

"Beliefs?"

"Yes. You see, pure bloods are in fact superior to mudbloods, muggles, squibs, halfbloods- you know, the whole lot. But to say you and the other nomads are evolutionary defunct is to say that we pure bloods are as well."

She still wasn't following.

"Your communities been isolated for centuries." He tried throwing her a bone, Ventura scrambled to chew the information into something legible.

"You think we're... pure bloods?"

"Well, it would make sense. Do you allow muggles on the communes."

"No."

"Do you know anyone from your home with Muggle kin?"

Ventura hesitated for a moment.

"...No." 

"The pure blood race is being bred out- we're down to only twenty-eight families. Here that is." He continued. Ventura looked away, an uneasy feeling knotting itself in her stomach.

"...I believe the communes are going to be key in restoring us to former glory- it's foolish the other families treat our fellow- oh, here we are."

He outstretched his arm to stop the girl from walking a step further. The door was closed, and he knocked politely against the wooden frame.

They paused for a moment. He knocked again, only for the pig shaped carving on the wall to snort on them. Ventura jumped back in fright promptingTheo to put his arm around her.

"Professor Sparks is not in at the moment- he has taken to an early retirement for the night."

Theo chuckled as Ventura straightened herself out to better study the enchanted carving.

"State your name and reason for seeking Professor Sparks."

"Ventura Way... that's my reason." Ventura didn't feel comfortable saying her true intentions in front of Theo.

She felt impatient, even as the carved pig seemingly chewed and swallowed this information to regurgitate to the Professor later. She still felt a call to action, she needed to hear answers.

"A bit cocky." Theo chuckled his eyes shifting from the pig to Ventura. "So you're a savage amongst the peers, to low to even step foot in the slytherin common room- yet a queen amongst the staff?"

"Why waste words, he'll know." Ventura turned to walk back to the dining hall, but as she felt the letter in her pocket she felt the deep groaning throb of homesickness.

Theo chuckled and made a few wide steps to keep up with her. 

"So shall I be expecting you?"

"Huh?"

"This Friday." 

Ventura had yet to truly sit down and digest the bulk of what he explained to her. She knew, through her grandmother Eileen's stories of the school, that the students held prejudices. She had come mentally prepared for a few snarky remarks. She had also been told stories which blood purity was a footnote- but really, she never paid her full attentional as most do when elders tell stories of their prime.

She knew that pure bloods existed, but why were they so important?

"Oh."

She wasn't sure how she felt around Theo, she felt his aura- it was neutral, if not a bit more cozy than most with happiness and perhaps a slight bit more ego dominating his days. Pride was something this boy held onto with an iron grip.

Ventura knew how dangerous pride could be.

"I know it was a bit... cowardly of me to ask you via note before formally introducing me. But you never seem to be alone."

"I am now." 

In fact know that he pointed it out, it seemed that no one introduced themselves here. It always was the after thought, as if you had to gain access to their name through trivial small talk. Or else they were like Malfoy, and expected you to already know their name- and nonetheless having to earn the privilege of them returning the favor.

"Lucky that I managed to catch you then- Ventura, won't you be returning to the dining hall?" Ventura had already began to walk past the dining hall door towards the path towards the Ravenclaw dorms. 

She felt the letter in her pocket, she was overwhelmed and wanted nothing more than to read something of respite from her mother. She imagined if she sent a letter out the next morning, she'd receive one back in a day or two.

"You can sit beside me, none of the other Slytherins will bother you once they see your charm."

Ventura knew her charm had nothing to do with it, it would be the fact she was sitting beside Theodore Nott. A pure blood. 

"I have some studying to do." It wasn't a total lie, though her studies weren't so important to her.

Theo seemed surprised by her soft rejection, he raised a thick eyebrow for a brief moment before his face relaxed. He was still smiling.

"You better hurry along then, but Ventura," He took a step closer to her. "Don't believe everything you hear about Slytherins- we aren't all rotten, not even half the lot."

"What makes you-"

"I see you roaming the halls with the golden trio." He stated. "Potter, Granger and Weasley- or should I say the anti- slytherin committee. They sure love their conspiracies."

Ventura relaxed a moment. Was she letting herself be prejudice? She really needed to speak to Susanna and Eileen...

"So Voldemort isn't real?"

"Please don't utter his name so heedlessly. He's quite real."

"You fear him?"

Theo laughed lightly and tilted his head, even in the dimly lit hallway he could see the girls concerned features. Like a lamb in a den of wolves. So in a world unlike her very own- he almost couldn't decide if it were more cruel to bring her here in a time when tensions were so high or that she was so sheltered in the first place.

"How about we make a deal." 

Ventura's eyebrows creased together.

"You come Friday and I'll answer any questions you may have."

Ventura looked over her shoulder, the flames flickered on the walls. But she could see the figures in the painting, all leaning their heads closer in her direction to hear her answer. Their eyes darted away once she caught them.

"Alright." She couldn't help but smile lightly, she stuck her hand out and Theo was the one confused.

"We can shake on it."

He couldn't help but smile, but his lips pressed together to suppress a chuckle.

"Alright," He shook her hand. "You have my word, Miss. Way."

She pulled her hand away, before turning to walk away. She smirked.

"Sucks for you, I was already planning on going."


	6. Chapter Five

Susanna Berkeley was always under the impression that world wanted to chew her daughter up.

Ventura was reminded of this when it had been days since her letter flew out. She imagined her mother and grandmother were debating on how to reply to her letter- her grandmother likely wanted to share more than what Susanna deemed necessary, or perhaps Eileen kept burning the 'COME HOME NOW' drafts. Eileen was always the more understanding of the pair, always ready to answer almost any question Ventura had and share her wisdom. Sometimes this made her scared to ask.

Ventura tapped her pencil, on the book- Harry noticed the girl was not paying attention. Nor had she been for the past few days. She wasn't sure who was telling the truth, Theo or Harry- or perhaps both sides were utterly biased in their own experiences. Was she just melting in propaganda?

How was one supposed to form their own opinion when their personal experience was so foreign with no one like herself to talk to. But perhaps she was judging Theo too quickly, their brief conversation certainly didn't give time for him to divulge his full truth.

But still she couldn't help but get the sense that Harry and Theo were on opposite sides of a huge issue.

Worse of all, Professor Sparks hadn't followed up with her. Perhaps Theo was right- her name truly wasn't enough.

"Nervous about next hour?"

Harry's whisper, dripping with hushed concern made her snap from her thoughts. She had been holding her quill in a tight grip over the half written sentence under Chapter Eight. They were now on Chapter Nine. 

"Is Malfoy giving you much trouble?"

Draco was seemingly public enemy number two besides Draco- though his rank on Harry's priority list could be comparable. This disdain somewhat mixed into Ventura's own opinion, taunting her view and allowing herself to find solace in the young Malfoy's cold shoulder.

"No." 

It was the utter truth. She wished she could offer up a horror story about how he pulled her hair or teased her relentlessly for her screaming legs and her habit of kicking off her shoes in class to draw her knees to her chest. But if anything, Draco had been the better of the bunch. He just silently did her portion of the work thinking she was too dumb to do it herself.

She lifted her hand to place it on Harry's shoulder, his aura was one of intense stress- one two heavy and slipping the slope of depression to be assigned to just her well-being.

He wasn't telling her something.

"Are you alright?"

His brown eyes blinked under the shield of his coke bottle lenses. 

"Of course." 

Ventura's lips pursed.

"Are you going to the Slytherin party?"

She was almost surprised he still remembered that small footnote.

"It is a bit dangerous-"

"They're just kids." She felt this was a bit too harsh. "I think that... I just want to go- try something new."

Harry was quiet for a moment. The sound of the professors voice echoing in the silent room only accompanied by the sound of quills scratching on paper.

"Great evil lurks in that house."

She squeezed his shoulder- evil. A word she had only ever heard of, but never experienced.

It sounded almost made up.

"They didn't ask the choosing hat to put them there."

"That's what makes it worse, there's a reason your communes remain so peaceful, Ventura." 

Her hand slid down his arm to his hand, which Harry held before her fingers had a time to clasp.

"Self motivated people... they only care about their own beliefs and wellbeing- they don't care who they have to step on. Theo is one of those people."

Crack.

Someone had broken the tip of their quill making the students turn their head to the offending peer. 

The Professor still kept on with their lecture.

"You like Hermione don't you?"

"Of course." In the past few days she had grown quite fond of the girl.

"Do you believe she's inferior to someone such as a Malfoy or Nott? That she should be put to death?"

Ventura's hand tensed in his grip.

"Why would you say such a thing?" 

"Because that's exactly the philosophy that's popular in that house. She's muggle born."

Ventura didn't know why that would have anything to do with it initially- but the conversation she had with Theo in the hall, seemed all the more sinister.   
.  
.  
.  
She sat with Luna at the quidditch match, and she discovered one thing- she was not very fond of sports. 

The first half of the game was spent asking question after question to Luna, who's patience began to run dry towards the first timeout. While others spectated the game for its social aspect, Luna just wanted to watch in silence.

Ventura honored this and sat in confusion, just silently admiring the broom riders skill. Though next time she decided she would sit with Hermione, Ron and Harry. 

In the dorms, she noticed some other girls were getting ready to go out as well.

They were fussing over outfits, discarding and re-plucking articles of clothing from the growing piles that sat on their beds or floor in front of their dresser. While others sat at the vanity combing their hair and applying what looked like face paint to their faces.

"Are you going to the Slytherin party?" Ventura asked Cho as she looked in the mirror, her chin turned over her shoulder as she checked her behind in the baby blue skirt.

"Yeah." She ran her palms down the front in an attempt to get any minute wrinkles that escaped the iron out. 

"I'd ask you to go but it's invite only-"

"I'm suppose to be meeting someone there." 

Cho paused for a moment, her perfectly plucked eyebrow raised but it was Parvati Patel who spoke up.

"A slytherin? A slytherin asked you?" She sounded breathless.

"Well, yeah-"

"And you're going in that?" Cho's voice was raising in excitement as Ventura looked self consciously at her outfit. It was what she had came initially to the school in- white palazzo pants and a yellow tank top that showed her midriff. 

"Cho, I don't suppose she's ever been to a real party before."

"You can ask me." Ventura frowned lightly before straightening herself out. She was tired of seeming naive. But really, everyone treated her as though they knew a joke she didn't.

"We have parties all the time back home."

"And that's what you wear?"

"Usually I don't dress as warm."

The two girls smiled knowingly at each other. Parvati gestured Ventura forward as Cho was digging through her drawers.

"Don't worry Ventura, we'll give you a makeover!" Parvati squealed as Cho rummaged.

"Yellow looks good on her skin, but it's terribly out of fashion. Maybe a nice blue? For some house rep-"

"Maybe a red?"

"No we don't want her to stand out to much."

"Black?"

"Parvati! This isn't a funeral!"

By the end of it, they decided that blue was the way to go. She was put in a sleeveless blue top with a rhinestone butterfly adorning the middle and a floral skirt. 

It was in their joy when they brought out their arsenal of makeup they found out that this was the first time foundation ever touched her skin.

"No wonder your complexions so clear." Cho fumbled some out on her wrist before mixing it with Parvati's to get a shade that matched Ventura's sun kissed tan.

"Will this hurt it?" She asked as Cho wiped some onto her face, only to wipe it off once she found her concoction wasn't quite right.

"One night won't do any harm." 

"I'll do your hair, we should try straightening it- have you ever straightened your hair?" 

Ventura jumped lightly as Parvati reached for her hair, Cho frowned at her for moving.

"Parvati, you know in her culture touching someone's hair is a sign of respect- you have to ask before your grubby fingers go combing through." She smiled lightly as she began to rub foundation into Ventura's cheeks.

"It's alright." Ventura relaxed lightly sinking her back towards Parvati.

"I wish I was from somewhere cool." She began to comb through Ventura's waves, starting at the ends and working her way up.

"And be uneducated?"

"Well, Ventura's educated isn't she!"

She just remained silent. Only getting slightly worried when Padma uttered the straightening spell and a gust of smoke rose from her hair.

"Glad I'm not a muggle." Parvati ran her fingers through Ventura's now straightened hair. "You know, they use this thing called a straightening iron- they have to run it over sections one by one. With your hair we'd be here all night."

When all was said and done they both set their hands on her shoulder and gestures her to the mirror Cho had been looking in previously. 

Ventura's jaw nearly dropped.

Her eyelashes looked longer and darker, her eyebrows had been neatly groomed via a spell. Her eyes looked less innocent and doe-full, the black smudge around it made it have the appearance of that of a tigers. 

She looked utterly manicured, nothing like the caricature the nameless boy had drawn on that note.

She brought her hand to her now pin straight hair lacking of even a whisper of her signature waves. Her hands went to the edge of the headband to feel it, just to make sure the person in the mirror was really herself.

"You look just like a model." Cho nearly squealed. "We can teach you everything we know, you can look like this everyday-"

"You're stunning!"

Ventura was taught by Susanna to ignore people when it came to vanity. 

"Your wit is enough Ventura, anyone who comments on your Aphrodite blessed face is just demeaning that." She'd say. Rich for an artist.

But still, she couldn't help but feel flattered- accepted.

She raised a hand hesitantly to her cheek before Cho slapped it away- she would smudge all her hard work.

But Ventura was glad she wasn't the only Ravenclaw invited to the party, as they neared the Slytherin common rooms she realized she would've never been able to find her own way. 

A large bulbous boy was standing guard alongside a square headed broad lad with a bulbous nose. Ventura recognized them as Malfoy's friends.

"Great Crabbe and Goyle are standing guard- they're the worst." Parvati groaned. "Such creeps."

"That fat boy called me a savage." Ventura said in a lower tone so he couldn't hear. Cho scoffed.

"Never take anything that imbecile says to heart- he's as large as he is stupid." 

Parvati giggled at this, and Ventura couldn't help but smile. But really her heart was pounding, never before Hogwarts had she ever been prone to anxiety. If anything, she was regarded fearless. Or perhaps she was just too comfortable being in her own element.

No wonder she wasn't put in Gryffindor.

"P-Patil, Chang." Goyle remarked nodding at the two girls before his eyes set on Ventura, they momentarily widened.

"Oi- who's this little bird ya got with ya?" Crabbe remarked as he straightened himself out to puff up his soft chest. 

As large as he is stupid...

"It's Ventura you absolute dunce." Parvati crossed her arms over her chest, but she looked victoriously over to Ventura and suppressed a smile.

Crabbe slouched slightly, his small puckered lips agape in a small Cheerio-O.

"You mean that savage girl from Australia? But she looks so..." His words trailed off, his cheeks blushed and Ventura was surprised to see him tripping over his words in fear of offending her.

"You clean up nicely." Goyle remarked before crossing his arms over his chest letting his muscles bulge as if any of the three could find this display attractive. "Who invited you three then."

"Malfoy." Cho answered cooly rolling her eyes. "Duh- now let us in."

"Now, now," Goyle held his palm up to Cho. "That doesn't explain her."

"There's no way Malfoy would invite one of her type to the prestigious slytherin common room." His small red lips pressed together as a deep blush rose to his cheeks when Ventura's eyes shifted towards him. 

"Well if I wasn't working, I could let ya in- of course, but Malfoy wouldn't like it 'n I don't want no problems."

"Well actually I-" Before Ventura could finish her sentence the Theodore Nott came pushing past the two. He grinned widely at Ventura and outstretched his arms as though she were to fall into them.

"Ventura! I hardly recognized you!"

All four of the spectators mouths fell agape. 

"Theo?!" Cho demanded looking at Parvati who was fighting back a smile to mimic her friends horrified expression.

"Were these oafs giving you a hard time? Lads, that's no way to treat a guest." He set his arm onto Ventura's shoulder and rubbed the exposed skin gently.

"Nott, you invited her?" Goyle asked amazed. Theo rolled his eyes before gesturing towards the two other girls.

"Come, come- Cho, I'm sure Malfoy's wondering what's taking you." 

Cho pressed her lips together briefly before smiling through gritted teeth. Ventura frowned at her reaction.

Inside the music pounded against Ventura's eardrums. In fact, it seemed as though the very air was rattling. The mix of green and white led lights flashed amongst the dark room as the bitter smell of alcohol sliced through Ventura's nostrils. 

"Do you drink?"

"Huh?"

"Do you drink?" Theo held his thumb and pinky out and made a gesture towards his lips as though he were throwing a cold one back.

"Oh!" Ventura nodded still a bit dazed from the switch in atmosphere. 

"Wait right here, I'll go get you something-"

"You don't know what I like."

"Trust me." He laughed. "If you don't like it I'll get you another."

Ventura watched as he slipped into the crowd, she frowned lightly before Cho trapped her by her shoulders and spun her around.

"You didn't say Theodore Nott invited you!" Cho hissed. 

"How did you manage that? Chos been-" Parvati was cut off by the girl elbow. Ventura blushed lightly.

"Is he your ex-"

"She wishes." Parvati laughed teasingly at Cho who scoffed. 

"Don't be mad at me because you're stuck being Malfoy's mattress kitten-"

"Ladies." 

The chatter amongst the trio stopped as they looked up to see the very man himself. Ventura's eyes widened, even in a casual setting he was still dressed like he was going to a royal funeral. 

His sharp gray eyes were fixed on Cho, who leaned into his side. 

"Oh, Draco we were just wondering where you were." 

Ventura shifted her eyes towards the crowd, as if not looking at him could make her invisible. But of course, this didn't work.

"Who's that?" But the minute her eyes met his, they widened a bit in realization.

"You brought her?" The disgusted tone pierced through her eardrums, making her wish the music could've just drowned it out. But his face relaxed, once again his cold mind was set on remaining calm and calculated.

"Chang, I didn't think you were one to keep such company."

"Draco! Don't be that way, she's my friend." But she kept the same high pitched tone that sounded as smooth as cream. 

Before anything else could've been said Theo was right behind her tapping her shoulder and handing her a glass filled with a clear liquid.

"Don't worry it's sweet."

Ventura thanked him and took a sip- he was right, you could barely taste the alcohol. This slightly disappointed the girl, who wanted nothing more than the harsh bite of a hard liquor at this moment.

"Now you have to keep up your end of the bargain." Ventura took another sip, it wasn't fruity- but warm and smooth. Almost like a baked good such as a cinnamon roll or pastry. 

Before Theo could make a quip, Draco himself came up to the pair. It was the closest he had ever gotten to her thus far, his arm was nearly brushing her shoulder- she was tempted to focus on his aura, to see if the bitter look on his face warmed up his cold aura any.

"Are you trying to make a fool of the entire house?" Draco demanded. Theo played dumb as he raised his eyebrows innocently and shrugged.

"Not even that- hanging around the likes of her- considering the fact you come from a decent pure blood family- what would your parents say?"

Ventura's heart pounded in her chest as a blush rose to her cheeks, she clenched her teeth. Her blood was absolutely boiling red hot.

"I'm sure they'd be quite charmed by her." Theo said smiling widely. "I think you're beginning to realize the wonderful opportunity our kind has been bestowed- you must be upset I picked the best of the bunch before your skinny little fingers could dilute her."

"I prefer my birds to not be borderline brain dead."

She clenched her fingers around the glass cup as though having the strength to shatter it. She wanted to scream at the top of her lungs that she wasn't stupid- 

"You're such a dick, I've never done anything to you." Ventura's tongue slipped and she was now glaring right at Draco. He remained untouched by her insult.

"I'm quite offended." He replied almost sleepily. Ventura wanted to strangle him with her own two bare hands, if she only could be so unhinged.

"No really, fuck yourself."

Draco scoffed before glancing back at Cho- Ventura supposed he was going to make some crude joke regarding the girl to bounce off of her remark.

"Ah, charming." He lifted his glass towards Theo. "Have fun Theo, do her some good and recite the ABC's while you take her for a shag in the bathroom why don't you? I'm tired of having to read everything allowed to her in class..."

Theo grabbed Ventura and pulled her away and through the crowd. She glanced back at the Malfoy boy, looking as cold and unbothered as ever as Cho half heartedly reprimanded him. 

Theo took her to the hallway, and she could now hear him laughing that the music was muffled to a low bass. He held his forehead as he let go of her arm.

"What's so funny?"

He wiped a tear from the corner of his eye as he tried to suppress his laughter, if Ventura wasn't so offended by Draco she would have blushed at her behavior. 

"Oh god, I just can't believe you said that to him!" He finally sighed, a few chuckles escaping. "I never would have expected you for one having a temper."

Ventura's arms crossed over her chest as she leaned against the wall of the hallway. She shook her head.

"He thinks I can't read." She blurted out. "Or write- that's why he said that, about my A-B-C's or whatever. Which is ridiculous- I can't tell him to fuck off but he can be so crude."

She scoffed as Theo leaned in curiously.

"Can you?"

"Obviously. But him not going to tell him that- he thinks I'm so dumb I can't even do my own work."

"So he does it for you?" The idea seemed to excite Theo. The idea of the Draco Malfoy being so caught up in his ideals on the nomads that it leads him to being tricked- rich.

"Don't tell him." 

"Don't worry, I'll make sure to tell him you're as full as they come and drooling throughout the entire conversation." He jested. Ventura laughed at this before shaking her head, suddenly her face was contorted into a frown.

"So... what's so important about pure bloods?" She asked looking towards the boy. He seemed a bit surprised she was already holding him up to his part of the bargain.

"That very statement, I dream of a day when the whole world is so common with pure bloods questioning them sounds silly." He tilted his head lightly. 

"You see, pure bloods are quite powerful with abilities and talents far superior to those of other blood ranges. But, there are some who down the line have been keen on limiting the worlds magical ability by breeding with muggles."

The way he said muggles struck Ventura as strange, never once had she ever heard the boys voice dip into disgust- but he spoke of muggles as Malfoy spoke of her.

"This leads to all types of complications- weaker bloodlines, the risk of squibs and then muggles bear witches and Wizards of weaker strength and dirty blood- it's a mess."

She thought of Hermione, never once did she get the impression that she was in anyway inferior to pure bloods. If anything she exemplified great skill and a dedication to her craft. 

"It's sounds cruel."

"But that's how it is at your home." He raised his eyebrows knowingly at Ventura. "Is there any wars? Any major conflicts? When you think about it, the communes exemplify a good portion of the ideal world- it just needs some... fine tuning."

Ventura thought back, it was true- the worst conflict of her life was an argument with Susanna or Ginger. But the majority of her life had been filled with love and community.

"So... are you a death eater?" The words tumbled out of her lips, she was too curious to find the polite way of wording it. 

Theo blinked for a moment making the girl scared she had truly offended him. She nervously began to twirl a strand of hair, the lack of texture made it slippery smooth under her fingertips.

"No."

"Are there death eaters?"

"Of course, but they like to stay underground- for now." 

"Why?"

"Well, publicly sympathizing with Voldemort isn't the best look-"

"No,"Ventura drew in her breath. "Why aren't you a Death Eater? You sound like one." 

"Sounds like Harry Potter did quite the number on you." He said raising an eyebrow. "If the conversation is veering into Voldemort I'm afraid I'm not able to offer more than what you most likely already know."

Ventura felt stupid for asking.

"But- I will tell you that the slytherin house is no more capable of being Death Eaters than anyone else at this school."


End file.
